The Beautiful and the Beastly
by shortstef
Summary: A modern fairytale retelling of BatB. The prince is a rich loner. The castlea derelict house in the woods. The rest? Who knows? CHAPTER THIRTY ONE IS UP, THE FINAL CHAPTER! BOOHOO! Rating is PG13 for violence and bad language
1. Prologue

Ok, here we go, my first attempt at a feature-length BatB-influenced story. As I'm not an accomplished writer and don't have a technique, I'm just gonna write as I go with things popping up in my head going into the story. Please don't pick me up on historical or geographical accuracy because I'm writing pure unadulterated fiction with no similarity to real life! There'll probably be a mish-mash of influences and likenings so feel free to play 'Spot The Reference' at anytime.

I came up with this idea ages ago when I was trying to think of ways you could 'modernise' Beauty and the Beast and figured this was a good way to do it. It's kind of a modern fairy-tale type thingy…….ok that's as much as I'm gonna waffle about it for now. Rating will start of PG and may go either way from there depending what kind of mood I'm in.

Disclaimer- I've seen other people do this so I'm assuming its what you do if you don't want to get dragged through the courts by the estate of Walt Disney. I don't own Beauty and the Beast and its characters in any shape or form. If I did, I'd have my own castle. And I don't! So there!

* * *

Prologue

Not once upon _a_ time, but upon _our_ time, a young boy lived with his mother and father in a large and ominous mansion deep in the Newforest. They lived a mysterious existence. Although the family were incredibly wealthy, and had everything they ever wanted, they chose isolation over human contact, and thus the boy was often alone.

One cold winter's night, the boy lay in his bed, trying to sleep and not to focus on the deafening sound of silence, when all of a sudden the silence was broken. Shouts, yells, the smashing of glass caused him to hide beneath his covers in terror. While he hid, a shivering lump under the warmth of his duvet, he held his hands over his ears, and so he was unaware of his parents murder until the next morning.

And so the curse began. Unequipped with the tools required to socialise, he spent the next nine years alone with his thoughts and his drawings, an art he'd mastered as a child and now used to make some sort of beauty out of the emptiness that consumed his life. From the topmost tower in the west wing, and the help of his father's binoculars, he could just about see the bustle of a nearby village, and it was this that occupied his drawings and became his way of interacting with the world he was too frightened to inhabit.

The magnificent house around him crumbled and fell into disrepair, the lavish gardens became overgrown and untended-the few servants long since departed. The boy became forgotten, and so also became a Beast.

* * *

Braces herself Ok, there we go. So what do you think? Please remember I'm new at this and very much appreciate constructive criticism. Any help you can give me would be beyond brilliant! Also, I don't know how often I'll be able to update cos I'm in my final year at uni and have lots of boring stuff to write as well. However, I promise I will update asap which is likely cos I need regular breaks from James Joyce and his meaningless drivel.

To bellamegs and TrudiRose- Thank you sooooooooo much for taking the time to read my first offering virtual hugs. I hope you think this one is ok as well. :)


	2. Bella

Ok, here we are, the first proper chapter. -drum roll please-I worked out kind of a little plan for the first few chapters last night so we'll see where it goes. I watched 'American Beauty' last night, was struck by how good it actually is. Sorry, that's completely irrelevant, it might influence things later on though, especially when it comes to the rose ;)

Disclaimer- This is the result of my own imagination. I don't own any of the Disney characters, settings, music etc. etc. It all goes to the man and his mouse.

* * *

**Bella**

Bella walked slowly down the main street, despite the hustle and bustle of the people around her. Her eyes were fixed upwards, her bag swinging by her side. She was day-dreaming again, and determined that no amount of shoving and sharp _Excuse me!_'s were going to stop her. Unaware of the glances and whispers that followed her every step, she continued ambling towards the edge of town and the deep, dark forest beyond it.

"Bella!" shouted Tristan, but in vain, because she could not hear him-a gentle hum replacing any other sounds in her ears

"BELLA!"

Still getting no response,Tristan ran up behind her, followed closely, as always, by his friend Luc

Bella jumped, giving a little shriek, at the sudden tap on her shoulder. Turning around furiously, she locked eyes with the most handsome man in town. Tristan met her icy gaze with a large toothy grin. "Hi, Bella!"

Bella's cheeks were highly flushed, still recovering from her cruel knock back into reality, whichTristan noticed and decided it meant that she, like every other girl in town, found him irresistible. His grin widened further.

"Hi Tristan. How are you today?" she replied.

"I'm great, thanks for asking. Just wondering if you'd given any thought to my proposal yet?."

Bella's mind went blank. Then she remembered, the day before yesterday,Tristan had asked her to be his date for some party his father was planning.

"Oh….." she stammered. "I totally forgot. I'm sorry."

Tristan's smile didn't move. "It doesn't matter. You can give me your answer now." He stared at her, as if daring her to say anything other than 'Yes.'

"Erm……"Bella started, wondering how to continue as she did not want to offend Tristan "I…I….I'm not sure if I can. It's my dad, you see. He might need some help in his lab."

Luc, hiding behind Tristan, snorted. "Oh, yeah, right!"

Tristan chose to ignore Luc, focusing instead on the unbelievable; Bella was turning him down.

Bella continued. "He's going to the patent office tomorrow, you see. He needs to get it finished. I'm sorry, Tristan. I have to go."

And with that she hurried off toward her father's house before Tristan could protest.Tristan stared after her, a slow fury starting to burn behind his eyes.

"I don't know why you bother with her." piped up Luc "She's not even that pretty. Why don't you ask Lydia, or Mandy?" He referred to two beautiful statuesque model-types that often cast puppy-dog eyes in Tristan's direction, but Tristan dismissed Luc's suggestion with a grunt.

"I HAVE to have her. She's…..she's……"

"Unobtainable, deluded, anti-social…." Luc listed her qualities on his chubby fingers. "You could do so much better."

Tristan was silent for a moment. Then, with a slight air of menace, he said "She'll come round."

……………………………………………………………………………

From the other side of the road, Bella stared in disbelief at her constant pursuer and his hanger-on. She couldn't understand why he kept asking her out. After all, she was nothing special to look at. There were plenty of other girls in town who would gladly cut off their right ear if it meant Tristan would look at them twice. Part of her told her she was being unreasonable.Tristan was the town stud and he wanted her….true he was arrogant and conceited, but at least he spoke to her face to face. Everybody else spoke behind her back or over her head.

It had been the same day after day since she and her inventor father had moved to the pleasant rural town six months ago from the city. The community all had their own little clique's-Bella and her father were outsiders. The few social invitations they had had when they first moved in had dwindled-most people deciding that they were rude and unsociable because they had not jumped at the chance to attend karaoke night at The Old Bell or the annual hog-roast. They refused to accept that Morris's time was taken up in his workshop, and that Bella found it difficult to fit in among the town's rowdy and overbearing youth.

Bella sighed, shrugged and continued to walk down the road, allowing her imagination to once again rule her head.

* * *

Woohoo. There it is. Once again, please read and review with CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. Any flamers will be bludgeoned with a dog statue…twice! (anyone else see Eastenders last night? Lol) 

Thank you to LumBabsFan and TrudiRose-my first reviewers! Yay! I can see the non-literal beast thing causing problems for me later on, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Thanks for the encouragement-makes me feel all fuzzy inside :), or that could just be the soup I had earlier…..


	3. Voyeur

**Chapter Two-Voyeur**

Wow, more reviews. Thanks so much everyone for the constant guidance. Here's another update as promised. I've taken longer this time because I'm trying to escape the dreaded short chapter syndrome. This chapter was partially inspired by me as I love watching people going about their everyday lives. It's fun til someone notices you staring……..as our Beast is about to discover. Oh whilst I'm at it, can anyone think of a good name for him? I don't want to call him Vincent

Disclaimer- I am not Walt Disney. It would be beyond creepy and gross if I was. The characters and vague plot are not mine but his and his animators. I would like to claim the new Beast as mine though, cos I just want to give him endless hugs.

Silent and still, the man behind the binoculars studied his view. He always found watching people fascinating. Each person had their own walk and their own funny little mannerisms-noticeable to everyone but themselves. On a day like market day, the streets he watched so steadfastly were full of life and character. Everywhere his gaze turned there were colours and shapes-people laughing, skipping, crying. A child pulling a face when his mothers back was turned, a couple so in love they walked down the street arm-in-arm oblivious to everyone around them, a girl on the edge of town watching people like he was………

His binoculars focused on her. She was standing still and by herself, her eyes seemingly fixed on two people arguing further down the street. His eyes quickly flickered back to them; he knew them well, or as well as a voyeur could know them. The taller one spent most of his time strutting round the town like a peacock whilst the smaller one ran after him like a chick looking for its mother. A morbid fascination always made him watch them briefly, but soon their actions bored him, as they were boring him now, and his wandering eye would become fixed on someone else. Like her.

The girl hadn't moved. He wondered why she was watching the other two so attentively. He pressed the zoom button, and wished he hadn't. The girl's eyes seemed glassy, almost like there was a thin veil over them keeping their contents from spilling down her reddening cheek. Her arm, holding a bag, seemed to be quivering slightly as though the bag was becoming too heavy for her to hold. He noticed she was delicately chewing on her bottom lip. Suddenly it struck him-he had never seen anything so beautiful as this girl who stood alone, slightly trembling, on the edge of town. He sensed there was so much more to her than what his binoculars would allow him to see, and this made her so beautiful that he could not stop watching her.

Suddenly, she stared right at him.

He backed up so suddenly he almost tripped over the table behind him. His heart thumped in his chest. Panic ran riot in his brain. What if she saw him? It hadn't occurred to him that somebody could see him seeing them. His head, ignoring the pounding of his heart, interrupted. "It's impossible. No-one would be able to see him, and even if they did, his face would be obscured by the binoculars." Carefully, he walked back to the window, shakily bringing his windows to the world back up to his eyes.

But she was gone.

Slowly, he sat back down on the stool, listening to his breathing slow along with his heart. He cursed himself for being so jumpy. There was no way she could have seen him. After all, he could only see the town through his father's powerful binoculars, and she had only her naked eyes. Maybe she had noticed something in the trees or in the sky that had caught her attention. No-one knew he was there. There would have been nothing to make her look at the tiny attic window engulfed by forest. He felt relief wash over him like a comfort blanket, but was then shocked to also find a twinge of disappointment hiding under the relief. Did a part of him want to be discovered? That moment when he thought he had been seen-his racing heart, his rapid breathing, the adrenaline rush…..he found himself hating the calm that now filled his soul with emptiness. For that briefest of brief moments, he had felt alive.

Contemplation became visible on his brow. Had it been the girl who had had that effect or the fear of being seen? Her face once again played on his vision, her sad, sweet face……

For the first time since he could remember, the voyeur smiled.

Ok, ok, I know, it's still fairly short but if I was anymore descriptive, I'd be in danger of turning into Stephen King. The next chapter will be action-packed, and should therefore be longer. A few shout-outs to my reviewers….

**TrudiRose**-Good point about the name thing. I want to give the characters more updated names, but for some reason Gaston alluded me. I was going to call him Tristan but wasn't too sure if it suited him. Luckily, there was no need for names in the chapter I just wrote but the next chapter will need them.

Ok, everyone, help me out with the names here. I want something good for our Beast, and opinions on Tristan as the updated Gaston.

**Spyderweb13**-Thank you! I'm really hoping this is going to work as a modern fairytale. Fingers crossed!

**Bellamegs**- Yeah, I know. You have every right to kick me for this section also being short, they're slowly getting longer though!

**LumBabsFan**-Thanks. I'm going to do my best to keep the story in a realistic setting, yet keep some fairytale element to it. Let me know if it stops working.

**KatyRose**-Yay! It's my favourite Disney movie of all-time too. I just hope I can do it justice.

Virtual hugs and chocolate cake for all my reviewers. It means a lot to me that I have people taking the time to read and review, specially since I'm a newbie.


	4. Home

Ok, here we are, your next chapter all ready for your viewing pleasure. My apologies for not updating over the weekend, but I was far far away from a computer in Nottingham. I did write just before I went though and the result is the chapter below. Update on character names-following the advice of bellamegs and TrudiRose, Gaston will now be known as Tristan. He doesn't appear in this chapter though, a fact I'm sure he'd be upset about! As for Beasty Boy, your suggestions are all good. Personally, I'm leaning towards Sebastian, mainly cos it's a nice name, but am worried you'll all wonder what a singing crab is doing in this story!

Disclaimer- Disney am I not. Oh, and I'm not Tim Burton either, although I wish I was.

* * *

Morris lit the fireplace he had built himself a few years previously and smiled as the warmth started to fill his soul. Rubbing his hands together, he sighed contently. Bella, whose head was hidden from sight in a large cupboard, finally found what she was looking for and held it aloft in triumph.

"Told you I'd find it!"

Morris slowly rose from his position in front of the fire and looked at the thing Bella held in her hand. It was a well-loved copy of Edward Scissorhands.

Morris and Bella often spent their Friday evenings like this-he would prepare the popcorn, while she chose their entertainment. Morris looked across at his only child, who was now eagerly reading the back of the video case, and couldn't help chuckling softly to himself. He had often lovingly scolded her for 'wasting her Friday nights with her old man', but had long learned to keep his thoughts on the matter to himself, rather than see her eyes flash and her nose wrinkle in disgust when he suggested other ways she could spend her time.

"Father, you are the only person in this town I would happily spend more than five minutes with."

A loud 'ping' interrupted his thoughts, and he carefully made his way to the kitchen to retrieve the popcorn.

Bella looked up from pretending to be absorbed in the words on the video case, and studied her father closely as he shuffled through the doorway. She couldn't help worrying about him. Part of her anxieties she dismissed as a daughter's natural concern for her widower father. Her mother had passed away when she was seven and, ever since then, Bella felt the need to take care of her father despite his insistence that she was fussing over nothing. However, Bella had also recently observed her father taking longer than usual to do simple things, such as preparing meals or getting dressed. His absent-mindedness was also starting to affect their lives on a daily basis. Bella wanted to blame all the time he spent on his inventions. After all, spending hours in their dark and cramped basement must be not good for anybody's health. However, just seeing her father's lit-up and slightly sweating face after a productive inventing session often reassured her that it was worthwhile.

"BLAST!" Her father's agitated voice came through the open doorway.

"What's wrong?" asked Bella, already halfway across the room. As she moved closer to the doorway, she became aware of her father frantically opening and closing drawer after drawer while the popcorn continued to languish in the microwave.

"What have you lost?" she asked, raising her right eyebrow as she often did when she was confused.

"My wallet….I'm sure I……" The rest of Morris' sentence was lost to the sound of him rummaging through the contents of one of the drawers.

Bella sighed to herself. Morris was always misplacing things and then suddenly missing them. She knew that he would now not calm down until he had found his wallet.

"When did you have it last?" she said, as she started looking among the piles of letters and leaflets on the worktop directly in front of her.

Morris closed the drawer and bowed his head. Bella could almost hear the sounds of cogs and wheels grinding together as he searched the recesses of his brain for the approrpaite memory. He saw himself leaving the house earlier that day and walking towards the post office to send off his latest patent application. He remembered cheerily wishing the clerk 'Good Day!' as he entered the building and then…….Ah, that was it! He had em,ptied his coat pockets to find the envelope and in doing so, had placed his wallet on a nearby shelf, intending to pick it up again once he had posted the letter. He must have walked out of the shop without it in his hurry to get home to Bella and the popcorn.

The clock on the kitchen wall started to chime bringing Morris back to the present with a jolt. It was a quarter to eight. He had fifteen minutes to get to the shop before it closed.

Bella watched as her father grabbed his coat and scarf from the peg by the back door and satretd muttering to himself about shops and time. Concern pushed itself to the front of her mind as she realised his intentions.

"Father….." she started but was cut off.

"Now don't you start, young ladfy! I'm sure I can walk to the shop and back without causing any trouble."

"But……" she protested. "It's dark and you'll catch your death of cold." She didn't even knoe why she was bothering to open her mouth-he'd go anyway-but it did make her feel a bit better thinking she'd at least tried to stop him.

The flames in the fireplace flickered as Morris opened the door, and Bella felt the cold air shoot down her spine. She shivered.

"Father….."

Morris paused for the briefest of moments. "why don't you get the popcorn and put the video on? I'll be back before you know it.

Bella sighed and shrugged her shoulders in resignation. Wearily, she walked to the microwave and opened the door.

"That's my girl!" Morris proclaimed cheerfully. "I'll be back soon. Make sure you save me some of that popcorn."

And with that he was gone.

Bella picked up the now lukewarm bowl of popcorn and sat in her favourite chair by the fire. The gentle heat of the flames played upon her face and, setting down the popcorn on the table next to her, she closed her eyes, imagining she was lying in a meadow in the height of summer. Her vivid imagination allowed the smell of freshly-cooked popcorn to be replaced by the invisible sweet smell of daisies and buttercups, and her ears heard the very faint tinkle of an ice-cream van somewhere in the distance….

………………………………………………………………………………

Morris hummed to himself, his fingers firmly clutching his newly-found wallet. He had gotten to the shop with a few minutes to spare and the clerk had laughed softly as she handed him back his peace of mind.

A lone street-lamp illuminated the old man as he crossed the street by the pub. The light picked out his thinning hair and caused slight shadows to form under his eyes. The tune that Morris was humming was one from a happy summer spent with Bella and her mother several years before. They had had a picnic on the grass in a meadow and had heard an ice-cream van across the field playing Greensleeves. It was this tune that filled his head with sound and caused his eyes to slightly mist over. Happy times……..

Engrossed in his memories, Morris failed to notice the crack in the pavement, and so it made him stumble and the wallet fall from his hand. Tutting to himself about road maintenance, Morris stopped and slowly bent down to pick up the wallet. Confusion lined his brow as his hand fell not on the soft leather of his wallet, but on the hard leather of a shoe covering it.

………………………………………………………………………………

Merely two hundred metres away, Bella slept in the armchair, oblivious to the fact that Morris was about to start in motion a chain of events that would change their lives forever.

* * *

Yay, I hear you shout, It's a chapter that's more than a page long. I was actually going to write more but thought I'd end on a nice little cliffhanger instead. Mwa ha ha ha ha! What's going to happen to Morris? Who does the shoe belong to? Why are they eating popcorn when nachos are so much better? Tune in soon for the next captivating instalment of 'The Beautiful and The Beastly.'

Before I go, a few words of happiness to my reviewers…….

TrudiRose-I'm glad you liked the first glimpse of the Beast. I'm hoping to make him more of a psychologically convincing character. We'll be entering his head again soon I'm sure.

Bellamegs-Thank yoooo! –dances around the compute happily-. Personally, I was pretty pleased about that chapter so I'm glad people are likeing it. Am liking the names you suggested, apart from Gaylord………..

Rosakara- I'm glad you liked it. Hopefully this chapter will please you too.

Hana-Thanks for sticking with it. I'll do my best to continue to draw you in.

And finally, seeing as I made chocolate pie this weekend, you all get a slice.


	5. Intruder

Morris' searching eyes slowly made their way up from the shoe on his wallet to a tracksuit-clad leg, then to a baggy hooded sweatshirt, and finally rested on a pair of sneering eyes, which seemed to glow yellow in the lamplight, and now narrowed as the lips below them parted.

"Shouldn't you be at home tucked up in bed, old man?"

Sniggers coming from all directions made Morris realise that the figure in front of him was not hunting alone.

His foolish pride made him get up from his sprawling position on the pavement; his shaky legs giving away his panic. As he opened his mouth to speak, he was startled to find his voice even shakier.

"Wh…what do you w…want?" cracked the noise from his throat.

The figure in front of him did not answer right away, but bent to pick up the wallet, his eyes never leaving his prey. Morris became aware of something else now over his left shoulder. In the silence, the shallow breathing in his ear echoed around his head.

Suddenly, he felt the unmistakable coldness of metal on the back of his neck.

"Don't move," hissed the voice in his ear, "or I'll put all four inches of this knife in your skull."

Fear froze Morris solid. He stared straight ahead, not daring to close his eyes for fear tat they would never open again. Consciously, he quietened his breathing lest his tormentors take the sound of his life as a threat.

The figure in front of him was now upright, and tossing the wallet from hand to hand. His eyes bore into Morris' as if daring him to try and take the wallet back, but Morris, wisely, stayed as still as stone on the outside. On the inside, his fragile organs were being pushed to their limits. His heart was racing, his lungs desperate for more oxygen, his stomach flipping over and over, yet Morris dared not move.

After what seemed like an eternity, the figure before his eyes stopped playing with the wallet and held it still, clutched tightly in his hand the way Morris had held it mere seconds before. The menacing eyes and tightly-drawn lips moved nearer to Morris' own troubled features. There they stayed while the beings behind Morris stepped back; their job successfully done. Then, the face moved nearer, again and again, until Morris felt he would be swallowed by the sharp eyes and yellowing teeth less than five millimetres from his flesh. The spiteful lips drew back once again and from the back of the throat there came a snarl, barely audible above a whisper to everyone else but Morris.

"Run."

For a moment, Morris couldn't move. Then, just as suddenly as he had been stopped, he felt himself go again. Blinded by terror, Morris found himself running faster than he had ever run before. His jellified legs fought the urge to collapse as, unfortunately for Morris, they carried him straight into the dark and endless clump of trees nearby.

Branches cracked and snapped beneath Morris' hurrying feet, and twigs seemed to deliberately attack his face as he ran for his life into a place of death. No birds sang, no squirrels chirped and no peaceful stream babbled. All Morris could hear was his own rapid breathing and the sounds of footsteps behind him. He was vaguely aware that the footsteps were not running as his were, but almost strolling as if mocking him. He was glad of this, however, for he knew that if the pack of youths started to run, they would easily catch up with him.

Fear and adrenaline are powerful stimulants, and it was these that enabled an elderly man to continue to move through the trees and plants of the forest. He turned left, then right, and then jumped over a log that tried to trip him up. He could hardly hear the footsteps now, but his heightened instinct told him that they were not far behind. This was indeed the case, but would not be for much longer, as the gang had done what they wanted to do, and would soon want to go to the pub and start spending Morris' pension. To them, he was just another easy target, a vulnerable creature to satisfy their appetites for money and fright. As Morris rounded another clump of trees and dodged a patch of nettles as though on some strange obstacle course, the gang turned around and ambled back to civilisation.

It had been less than fifteen minutes since Morris had been attacked, but to him it seemed he had been running scared for most of his life. The vital adrenaline was starting to fail him and he was on the verge of collapse when he spotted a large house just beyond some trees in the distance. His common sense told this was where he would find help, a drink and a toilet-three things he needed now more than ever before. Morris' pace slowed as if he had unconsciously realised that the youths were no longer chasing him and struggling for air like a fish out of water, he made his way toward the large wooden doorway. As he knocked with all the strength he had left, he felt water start to soak him through. It had started to rain.

There was no answer. Morris knocked a second time. Still no answer. Desperation made Morris jerk the door handle back and forth, and to his astonishment the door opened towards him. His sensible brain could not help him mentally scolding the owner of the house for not being more safety-conscious. The first thing he did on the other side of the door was slam it shut, and then bolt and lock it, before grabbing a nearby chair and putting it under the door handle. He stepped back and admired his work, feeling sure the owner would thank him.

As Morris' heart finally started to resume its normal beat, he turned his back on the door and looked around. The hallway was huge and dark. In the gloom, Morris could just make out some furniture, a table and a few chairs, to one side and a once-majestic staircase directly in front of him. There were many doors leading off from the walls, and a lightless chandelier hovered above his head. Absurd reason made him remember a certain scene from the Phantom of the Opera, and he moved further into the room. His tired footsteps were the only sound above the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

Morris stopped and silently scolded himself. Where were his manners? He opened his mouth to speak, but dust rushed in to his throat, and he had to cough and splutter before he make another sound.

"Hello? Is someone there? Hello?" he shouted as loud as he could. Maybe the owner was an elderly person who could not get to the door very easily. He decided he had better explain himself.

"I beg your pardon for the intrusion. I've lost my way in the woods. I've just been mugged and would ask you for a drink of water and possibly the use of your telephone, if you wouldn't mind……..Hello?"

Morris sighed, and started to resign himself to the possibility that no-one was home. Even more of a reason to lock the door, he thought. He decided to try and find the kitchen. He would get some water and sit down, and then try and think of what to do next. He started to move towards one of the doors to his right, when, a very slight movement to the left caught his eye. Morris' head whipped round and he peered into the darkness. The movement seemed to have come from a corner of the room underneath the staircase. Morris felt his heart begrudgingly start to speed up again as he moved towards the corner.

"Hello?" he whispered. His aged eyes struggled to make out what was in the corner, and so he crept slowly forwards.

"Hello?" he whispered again. He could now just about make out a bureau of some sort with a chair facing it. He thought he could just see something in the chair but still moved forwards to get a better look.

Gulping down the urge to whisper again, he reached out a shaking hand to the back of the chair and turned it to face him.

"MIAOW!"

A cat screeched at Morris, leapt out of the chair and ran through the nearest doorway.

Morris fell backwards and lay on the floor, his organs once again jumping all over the place. The last few moments had drained all trace of energy from him, and so he just lay there, trying to get his breath and some of his sanity back. His eyes focused on the ceiling far above him and he noticed swirls and colours dotted around. His experienced eye told him that this house once would have been beautiful to look at. A sadness filled his heart and he felt himself shaking his head. He hated to see beautiful things fade into ruin.

Suddenly, the ceiling no longer interested him. His ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps descending the staircase. Morris groaned. Hadn't he had enough shocks for one night? He decided he just wouldn't get up. That way he wouldn't have to face what was coming.

The footsteps started to walk across the floorboards towards him. Morris closed his eyes and waited.

* * *

And……….stop!

Heehee, aren't I mean? I can feel you hurling things at the computer screen as I type. That's gonna be all for now folks. I'd love to write this all day but alas, I have things I need to be doing.

Once again, I would like to thank everyone's kind reviews so far. They're all so encouraging :)

TrudiRose- I'm glad you liked my first cliffhanger, and that it had the desired effect. Hopefully, they'll be many more, depending on how I develop the storyline. Good that you think my character development is good so far. Like I said, I'm kinda inexperienced at this so its good to know that I'm getting stuff right. Tristan is now outraged at his lack of appearances, I'm having to put him in the next chapter just to shut him up lol

Bellamegs- Thank you once again for your warm and fuzzy praise. I would like to point out though that I personally think you are a fantastic writer. I love your story 'Tale as old as your mama!", it inspired to me to write my own modern take, and though I can see our stories being very different in style, they show that there's more than one way to update Disney! Morris' remembrance of happy times was partly inspired by me, for some reason all my favourite childhood memories involve an ice-cream van! LOL And, yeah, I'm not going down the horse route (as much as I love Phillippe) cos I can't see it working properly in this story.

Rosakara- It's great you're still liking the chapters. I hope they all end up as good as eachother.


	6. Seeker

Ok, just so everyone knows. I've changed the rating to PG because I use a swearword twice in this chapter. Don't worry, its not that bad, but I don't want to offend anyone. You have been warned!

Disclaimer:- This just isn't me! Well, the basic plot isn't. It's all my own words though!

* * *

_Bella was dancing. She couldn't tell exactly where but it looked like a grand ballroom. The air sparkled with stars and fairy lights. She looked at her dance partner. He was in a blue suit trimmed with gold, but his face was hidden by a golden mask. She was wearing a matching golden ball gown that glistened as she moved to the music. She stared into his warm green eyes as they twirled round and round, and found herself almost falling into them. They seemed to dance forever to a familiar melody, and as the song ended, the couple leaned in towards one another, but paused short of each others lips. Her dance partner stared into her soul, as he spoke. "Can I keep you?"_

_Bella was about to reply when a harsh light suddenly blocked her vision. She felt herself falling…falling…….._

Bella opened her eyes and winced. Sunlight streamed through the window and filled her vision with dancing black dots. A glance at the clock on the VCR confirmed her dread; it was morning. Bella held her head up with her hand and looked around. The popcorn lay stale on the table and the open video case of Edward Scissorhands was still on the floor in front of the television. There was one thing missing from the picture. She sat bolt upright. Where was her father?

"Father!"

The silence was deafening. Bells stood up and instantly wished she hadn't. She gritted her teeth as cramp shot through her leg.

"Shit!"

The curse made her put her hand to her mouth out of habit, but the lack of response reminded her of more important matters than a bit of cramp, and she ignored it as she ran to the bottom of the stairs and called again.

"Father!"

But the upstairs of the cottage was as quiet as the downstairs. A million thoughts paraded themselves through Bella's mind, only to be quickly discarded. Morris was sleeping. But then why didn't he wake her up when he came in? He had been invited in for a cup of tea and a croissant by the postmistress. But then cups of tea and croissants don't last for over twelve hours. This eliminated the two preferable possibilities, which left one glaringly obvious fact.

He hadn't come home last night.

Bella was just about to submit to an all-out panic attack when there was a knock on the door. Relief flooded through her as the sunlight flooded the room, and she smiled as she walked to the door. The smile suddenly dissipated as a look through the spy hole revealed that it was not her father. Even worse, it was Tristan. His head seemed even bigger when viewed through the distorted lens of the spy hole. Bella groaned. This was the last thing she needed, but she knew from bitter experience that he would keep on knocking until she answered. As if to confirm this, there came another heavy knock on the door, followed by the overly-masculine sound of Tristan's voice.

"Bella? Bella? Are you in there?"

Grudgingly, Bella removed the door chain and opened the door. The sunlight once again hit her full on in the face, although the air that hit her nostrils had the choking smell of dampness. It had been raining.

Shielding her eyes with her hands, she looked up past Tristan's square jaw to his uncomfortably piercing blue eyes. "

"Tristan……" she began but was cut off.

"Bella, you look terrible."

Her eyes flashed at his bluntness, but despite her principles, she suddenly found herself smoothing her hair back behind her ears as she talked.

"What do you want, Tristan? Now is not a good time."

"Wrong!" Now is the best possible time for what I've got lined up for you today. You lucky girl! I'm taking you to the swimming pool so you get to see me in my trunks….." His eyes quickly scanned her up and down….."but maybe we should drop by a salon first."

Somehow, Bella resisted the temptation to tell him exactly where she thought he could shove his trunks. Instead, a glimmer of hope came to her. Completely ignoring his suggestion, she asked him

"Have you seen my father by any chance? I don't know where he is."

She expected Tristan to simply say no and then waffle on some more about swimming trunks, but instead he became suddenly very interested in his feet and mumbled something under his breath. Because these actions were so rare in someone of Tristan's nature, they were made far too obvious.

"What did you say?"

Tristan looked sheepish.

"Nothing really. It's just I thought I saw……..no it doesn't matter………" he trailed off irritatingly.

"What?" barked Bella like a sergeant major, trying her hardest to resist grabbing to nearby broom and whacking him over the head with it.

"I think I …uh……..saw him talking to some guys near the edge of town last night."

"Who? What guys?"

"I don't know!" Tristan threw up his hands in the traditional gesture of protest. "Just some guys……I was too far away to see who they were."

"But you were close enough to see it was my father!"

"Well…i….uh…."

Bella rolled her eyes. This was like talking to a five year old. She found herself speaking slower and more deliberate.

"What did they do?"

Tristan's eyes kept glancing behind him as if he was hoping for someone to rescue him from this awkward situation.

"I dunno. They…..uh…..he….uh….well….they talked for a bit and ……uh…." The next part of the sentence came out in one breath………"he-ran-into-the-woods."

"WHAT?" Bella exploded. "Why? Did they………"her eyes bulged as they realised the full possibilities of what had happened "……….were they threatening him?"

Tristan's silence spoke volumes.

"They threatened him and you stood by and watched?"

The words came out more like a statement than a question. Bella felt hot tears start to sting the corners of her eyes. Tristan was now repeatedly opening and closing his mouth like a fish, as odd incomprehensible noises came from his throat.

Bella had always been more of a 'doing' rather than a 'talking' person, so while Tristan was doing his best trout impersonation, she stormed back into the living room and retrieved her coat from the back of the armchair. Fighting back the urge to either break down in tears or hit Tristan, she pushed past him and slammed the door behind her.

Something told Tristan that this wasn't her acceptance of his invitation to go to the pool.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to look for him."

"Hey!" Tristan ran after her and spun her around. "You're not going in those woods! It's dangerous!"

Bella's teary eyes flashed again. "I'm going to look for him. If you care so much about my well-being, you're welcome to accompany me."

Tristan was still.

"I thought so." Bella shook her head his lack of enthusiasm. Despite all his boasting and bragging, he was just your average coward. Bella wondered how she could have thought any thing better of him. She buttoned her coat and marched towards the forest, only for a rough arm to grab her again. She turned around furiously.

"Let me go!" she hurled at Tristan's stony face.

"No!" he hurled back. Then he tried to hold her as if to carry her away from her destiny. But Bella was not the kind of girl to let Tristan boss her around. Pulling her arm back as hard as she could, she slapped him hard across his left cheek. She hadn't properly thought through the consequences of her actions, and she gasped as she hit the ground with a thud.

"Shit, Bella! I've got a modelling job tomorrow!

He patted his face, which was already starting to turn a funny shade of red, and winced.

"Fine! If you want to get yourself killed, don't let me stop you. Good luck!"

And with that he stomped back down the road.

Bella sighed with relief and gingerly got up, pausing only to pick the mud and stones off her own face. She once again started to walk towards the forest. Now any other girl would probably have been straight on the phone calling the police, but Bella had more common sense. The policemen in her town were notoriously bad at their jobs. She could just picture their sniggering faces at the police station if she went up to them and said her father had run into the woods. They probably were fully aware of a gang of youths mugging people and had just decided it would sort itself out. She found herself cursing the day she and her father had ever come to the town.

Now just in front of the barrier between known and unknown, Bella stared into the wilderness. Everything was deathly quiet, water lay in soggy puddles here and there on the path, and were slowly contributed to by lazy water droplets falling from the green canopy above. The ground was muddy, and Bella found herself groaning at the fact she was wearing her very impractical pumps. Suddenly, her eye spied something in the mud that didn't belong. She bent down to examine it more closely, and gasped when she realised it was her father's wallet. She picked it up and looked at it. All money and anything valuable had been stripped from it, of course, but yet the presence of the wallet warmed Bella's heart just a little. It meant her father might be ok. Pocketing the wallet, Bella moved into the woods.

After a few steps, she became aware of the forest's stillness. There was no activity anywhere from either animals or plants. No wind seemed to blow. The mud squelched beneath her feet as if protesting at her steps. For a long while, she just wandered, unsure of where she was going, her head turning this way and that, her eyes scanning the ground for signs of her father. Rationality fought against devotion in her head. Her heart told her that she would find her father, but her head kept reminding her that the forest was vast and dark. It would take her forever to find him among the tangle of roots and branches, but forever was the one thing Bella had. She had finished school the previous summer, and was yet to find herself a job. She had gone from place to place in the town searching for her vocation, but so far nothing had sparked her interest. However, careers were far from her mind as she negotiated the forest.

Something beyond the trees caught her attention. Was that a roof? Was that a house? Her mind became riddled with questions. What was a house doing in the middle of the forest?

Logic leapt back into her mind triumphantly. If there was a house that meant that was where Morris was most likely to be. He would not be out in the forest when he could be in a nice warm house putting his feet up in front of the television. Bella smiled at the image. He was probably sitting there right now boring his host with tales about his life as an inventor.

Bella almost ran to the house, and was even happier when she noticed her father's hat upon the ground just before the immense doorway. She laughed to herself. It was like a trail of breadcrumbs. She picked up the hat and knocked on the door.

Like Morris, she was met with no reply. Frowning slightly, she tried again, but to no avail. She was just about to try the door handle when a noise above her made her step back and look up. In the sunlight, she swore she saw something glint at the top window. Shielding her face with her hand, she spoke to the glint.

"Hello? Is someone there? Hello?

But the glint had disappeared. Was it just a trick of the light? Bella shrugged and tried the door handle. To her astonishment, it opened. Bella hesitated for a moment. Something about this house bothered her. Why hadn't she known about it before? Should she really be entering strange houses in the woods? Nevertheless, her search for her father had brought her here. If he was anywhere in the forest, this is where he would be. Taking a deep breath, Bella entered the house.

The voyeur stared at the girl approaching his house. What was going on? First the old man, now her. He had had no visitors for ten years, and then all of a sudden, two had come in the space of twenty-four hours. He reached for his binoculars and put them to his face, careful not to lean out of the window too far. He focused in on her face, and then almost accidentally dropped the binoculars on her head.

It was her! The girl from the village! She was here! But why? Maybe she and the old man were connected somehow. The image of the old man made him seethe. Stupid meddling old man! How dare he intrude on his property? If she was coming to get him, then good riddance!

He couldn't help picking up the binoculars again. He zoomed in on her face. Dried tears scarred her cheeks. Was this girl always crying? He felt his heart lurch beside his stomach. She was beautiful………and she was here. Bitterness consumed him. Most likely, she would take the old man and leave, never to brighten his doorstep again. He couldn't let her do that…..

Suddenly she looked right at him. This time he didn't fall off his chair. Somehow, he had been expecting it. She was calling to him. How he longed to call back, but he knew his dry throat and shyness wouldn't let him, almost like they had teamed up together against him. He turned his back to her cries of greeting and tossing his binoculars aside, he walked to the door, wondering what he would do next.

* * *

Ah! The end once again is upon us. I ended it here cos I need to do some serious thinking about the Bella/Beast meeting, and how I'm gonna present it. Hope this chapter satisfies you all for now. Once again, thanks for all of your wonderful reviews. You're the best! I'm glad you got the wolf/gang metaphor. I was worried that I'd either not made it obvious enough or layed it on too thick, but it looks like it worked the way I wanted it too, so yay! I'm not gonna do individual replies to reviews today cos to tell you the truth I am absolutely knackered, and starving as well, but please everyone know that you're all great and I do really appreciate your input. Bye for now! 


	7. Guest

Yay! Here it is finally, the next chapter! Sorry for the delay in updating. I had loads of stuff to do plus I wanted to take my time over this one. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer-** Walt Disney rules the world along with the Coca-Cola Company and the cast of Friends. I don't want to incur his wrath from beyond the grave, so I hereby admit that I nicked the basic plotline from him. Although, if you want to be picky, the original story belongs to Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont.

* * *

The heavy door shut behind Bella with an ominous slam. She was suddenly struck by the shock of how cold the house was compared to the warm sunshine she had been submerged in just moments before. The oranges and yellows of the world outside had been replaced with the blacks and greys of the room she now stood in. It was a huge entrance hall and it made Bella feel like she was Alice and has drunk from the wrong bottle. She had come from the warm and cosy rabbit warren to a strange and frightening new land.

Yet beneath the dark walls and ghostlike drapes, there seemed to be a life. Bella felt compelled to place an outstretched hand on the wall next to the door, and was surprised to feel something once beautiful underneath the cool surface. This house had once been a home with the melodious sounds of talking and laughter no doubt echoing through its grand chambers and hallways, but now buried under years of dust and neglect.

Bella shivered. Hadn't these people heard of central heating? For a moment, she simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out the best way of looking for her father. She had a feeling that merely shouting his name would be fruitless.

Eventually, she decided that ascending the staircase was the best plan. If Morris had stayed the night here, he would surely have been in one of the bedrooms, and bedrooms were commonly found on the upper floors of a house. Glancing around her, as if expecting something to pop out of the shadows at any moment, she cautiously made her way up the stairs, flinching at every creak and protest from the wooden steps. As she reached the top of the stairs, she was met with a long corridor disappearing into the blackness in both directions, and dotted with door after door. Something told her to go right, and so this is what she did, unaware that something else was watching her every move.

As she peered into the gloom, she saw that the corridor bent round after about fifty metres, and ignoring the doors that frequently offered themselves as options, she followed the threadbare carpet as it led around the corner. It as just as she turned the corner and was met with yet another row of doors leading to a large window that she suddenly became aware that she was hearing too many footsteps. Another set seemed to be trying to walk in synchronisation with hers but struggling to stay accurate seeing as her own steps were uneven and shaky. Now, as she stood still, hardly daring to breathe, she listened intently, but now she heard nothing. Could she have imagined it? Bella giggled nervously to herself; she had been watching too many horror movies. Just to confirm this, she looked back over her shoulder. There was nothing there. She shrugged her shoulders and continued down the corridor.

Behind her, the voyeur slowly slunk out of his position in a shadowy doorway and once again, crept slowly behind her. Part of him wanted to confront her, but another part of him found it much more satisfying to follow her without her knowing. It was like a slightly macabre version of Tag. He realised she was heading straight for the room where her father was. How could she have known? He already sensed that she was no ordinary girl. What else would she surprise him with? He found himself moving slightly closer to her. He could almost smell her perfume.

Bella moved towards a door to her left. It had a round grimy window and she peered into it whilst whispering "Father?"

To her astonishment, she heard her father's equally astonished voice.

"Bella? Is that you?"

"Father!" she exclaimed with joy, and pulled the door handle. But it made no difference. The door was locked.

"Wha….? Father? Why are you locked in?"

"He locked me in. Bella, are you alone? Please tell me you're alone."

Bella was not listening. She was too busy frantically turning the door handle, and starting to sob.

"Are you ok? Who's done this to you?"

"Bella, listen to me. Go and get some help. He's mad……."

"I'm gonna go find a key. There's got to be one around here somewhere."

Ignoring her father's warnings, Bella ran back down the corridor.

And straight into the Beast.

The sudden sensation of hitting something solid made Bella stumble backwards and trip over a ridge in the carpet. She fell to the floor for the second time that day. She cursed and stood back up, noticing that the thing she had hit was also picking itself off the floor. As he slowly rose to his feet, Bella got a good look at him.

He was tall and of medium build, and wearing an old polo shirt and jeans. So far, so normal. But, as he lifted his head to stare straight at her, she noticed he had long, shaggy hair tied back in a messy ponytail and most of his face was obscured with an untidy moustache and beard. Her first thought was that he was a tramp squatting in the house, and so her immediate reaction was one of anger.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You scared me half to death!" she blurted out between rapid breaths.

He stood still, his eyes staring at his feet as if he dared not look at her. After a few moments, he spoke.

"I think I am the owner of this house, and you're trespassing, so I have every right to scare you half to death."

Bella was speechless for only a moment. Then she found her voice.

"You live here?"

"Yes."

"Did you lock my father up?"

"Yes."

Bella wanted to launch herself kicking and screaming at her taunter, but her common sense held her back, while ice danced up and down her spine. Too many hours watching horror movies were muddling up her thoughts. What if he was an insane axe-murderer? What if her father was sharing that room with the bodies of previous trespassers?

As if to confirm this irrationality, he spoke again.

"He was intruding. I don't like intruders."

Bella tried to stay calm, but she already felt the sting of tears at the corner of her eyes, and now they spilt onto her cheeks.

"Pl…please let him out. He didn't mean any harm."

The beast thought for a moment. He hadn't planned for her to cry. Those tears were starting to drown him internally. He found himself spluttering.

"I…I can't. He has to stay…..no-one can know….."

"Please. We'll go. We'll never bother you again, we'll never tell anyone you're here, just let him go…"

She became aware that she was now doing her puppy-eyed and droopy-lipped look. Her confused brain obviously felt that if it worked to get an extra dessert, it would work just as well now.

"I'm sorry."

The beast turned his back. He couldn't deal with this situation. He wanted to run to his attic and shut the door, but she spoke before he could lift his foot.

"Wait! Take me instead."

Bella couldn't believe the words coming out of her own lips. What on earth was she thinking? She couldn't offer herself instead of her father. It was insane. Yet something deep inside her told her that this was the right thing to do. It was mad, it was crazy, it was foolish, but it would work for now until she could think straight.

And it did work. The beast turned around, his eyebrows were raised so high they were in danger of merging with his hairline.

"You….what? You…want to stay here instead of him?"

"Yes. Would that work for you?"

Bella wanted to crack up inside. She fought the urge to laugh hysterically. Here she was exchanging her fathers life for her own with some weird guy in a derelict house in the woods, and she sounded like she was organising a business lunch.

The beast tried to make sense of this. If she stayed her instead of the old man, what difference would it make? The old man would surely go straight to the police and before he knew it, he would be forced back into the harsh glare of society. Unless….unless he held her captive and threatened the old man that if he told anyone, he would hurt her. Yes……..that might work. There was obviously some sort of bond between them; otherwise she wouldn't have come here in the first place. And he'd rather have her stay with him than the old man. Maybe she could even……….No, there was no time to think about that now. He found himself nodding his head.

"You want to stay here instead of him?" he repeated.

"If I did, would you let him go?"

"Yes. But…you have to promise you'll stay and not try to escape."

Of course, the first thing that crossed Bella's mind was the beginnings of an unsophisticated escape plan, which basically involved her running out of the door when his back was turned, but she'd humour him for now.

"Ok. I promise…not to escape."

The beast didn't believe her for a second, but he'd humour her for now.

"Done."

He pushed past her and produced a key from his back pocket. He unlocked the door and disappeared inside for a few seconds. Then he grabbed Morris' arm and frogmarched him down the corridor before Bella had a chance to breathe. Her pleas for him to wait fell on deaf ears, and somehow she couldn't muster up the strength to chase after him. All she could do was watch, her vision blurry with tears and her throat dry as sandpaper, as he took her father away from her.

Downstairs, a flustered Morris was struggling against the surprisingly strong grip of his captor. He felt himself being dragged towards the front door. Just before they reached it, he felt the grip on his arm change as the beast lowered his face to meet his own.

"If you tell anyone, ANYONE, I will hurt her. Understood?" he hissed.

The sour breath engulfed Morris' nostrils as the threat engulfed his brain.

"I….I…." he gasped.

"If I see the police, or anybody else, and trust me, I WILL see them, I'll hurt her. Do you understand?"

He shook Morris as if shaking the words into his soul.

"Yes. Yes. I…I understand."

"Good."

With that, he opened the door and threw Morris out onto the doorstep.

"You can see the entrance to town if you look to your left. It's not as far as you think."

And the door slammed behind him.

Wearily, the beast started to climb the stairs again. He hated himself even more than he already did for what he was doing, but it was the only way. They couldn't know about him, they just couldn't. He had spent too long ensuring that that would never happen.

He went down the corridor and found her slumped on the floor, her face and neck wet with tears, her throat making a strange wheezy sound. He just looked at her, completely unsure of what to say or do next.

She spoke, her voice choked with saltwater.

"Wha….what...are you…going to do to me?"

His eyes rounded in shock. She thought he was going to hurt her? He could never do such a thing even if he tried. How could she think that? A cruel logic spat at him from the back of his brain. _Er….maybe because you scared her, then chucked her father out of the door before she could say goodbye? And maybe because you're forcing her to stay here with you, you of all people! You're such an asshole._

He wanted to slump to the floor like she was. He wanted to bury himself in the dust and dirt. But he didn't want her to see he was weak.

"Come with me. I'll…I'll show you to your room."

She looked at him, confused. "My room? But….but I thought….I thought…"

"You can either stay here or in a room with an actual bed instead of a mouldy piece of wood. Your choice."

Bella looked into the room. It was indeed empty apart from a few bits of wood and masonry.

No contest.

A few minutes later, Bella was walking slowly down the long corridor with the strange man in front of her. She couldn't bring herself to walk alongside him and make conversation ( an action she would normally have done with a stranger) so she chose to meander behind, occasionally stopping to look at the paintings on the wall, partly because she found them interesting, but mostly because she wanted to annoy him. However, he never once turned round, seemingly too preoccupied with his own thoughts, so after a while Bella resorted back to walking behind him. She didn't like it. It reminded her too much of a funeral procession. She half expected to see a wide open grave as their destination, but instead they stopped in front of one of the many doors.

The beast spoke, his voice scratchy as though he had been swallowing furiously.

"You can stay in here."

Bella tried to look at him, desperate for any kind of sign or emotion, but he refused to meet her gaze. Sighing, she stepped into the room. The door shut behind her and a key turned in the lock. Somehow she wasn't surprised. She waited a few moments until she thought he had gone, and then let herself break down.

On the other side of the door, the beast was listening intently. He couldn't tear himself away from the sound of her tears. He had never heard a woman cry before. It was both beautiful and terrifying. Eventually, he dragged himself wearily down the corridor, the sounds of her sobs echoing inside his head.

* * *

Woohoo! It's finally ready. You don't know how much I was tempted to stop the chapter just before the description of the Beast, but I thought that was mean, seeing as you've all waited so patiently for this chapter. I hope it was worth the wait! A couple 'a' things…….I actually thought long and hard how I wanted the Beast to look, but the end result turned out quite simplistic. Hope it works for everyone. If anyone wants to imagine what he looks like, here's what I reckon. Take Gerard Butler (the guy who played the Phantom recently) and subtract about fifteen years off his age, then add long hair and lots of facial hair, and that's roughly what I'm thinking. After all, he's had no company for a while, why bother shaving or cutting his hair?

As for Bella, she's quite normal-looking, kind of pretty in a quirky way, one of those people whose smile lights up their whole face.

And Tristan, well, he's like the original Gaston, except without the long hair (I think he'd think long hair would be soooooo two decades ago)

No two person's imaginations are the same so I'm sure you'll alter my ideas to suit you. Just thought I'd give you a helping hand.

Oh, and for anyone else who's interested, I brought Beauty by Robin McKinley the other day. Anyone else read it? It's great so far.

**TrudiRose- **Thanks for letting me know how to go back and change Gaston's name. I wouldn't have had a clue. When I joined, I didn't get any instructions, is that normal? Anyway, thanks again for your continuous reviews. I'm glad that I seem to be doing things right so far. :)

**Beautygirl-** Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it.The wolf metaphor came about merely for practicality reasons. I mean, you can't have wolves roaming a forest near a town anymore! I still wanted to capture the idea of the wolves but thought a gang of youths would be more realistic. By the way, we haven't heard the last of them….Hope you like how I did the meeting!

**Bellamegs- **Yay! Glad you liked it. I actually really like writing about Tristan/Gaston cos he's just such an idiot! P.S Am loving your new story so far

**Rosakara-**Once again, thank you!


	8. Vandal

Yay! I've updated! Again, I am sooooo sorry for the delay but it couldn't be helped. I have had deadlines to meet and stuff to frantically finish so my dissertation and essays have taken the place of more pleasurable activities. But, that shouldn't be a problem anymore cos its all done and dusted now so I can devote more time to my story! Woohoo! Anyway,I hope you all like this chapter and that it whets your appetites for whats to come. The next chapter will be action-packed so this is like the calm before the storm. Ow! My wrist hurts from typing so hard.

Disclaimer:- I fully acknowledge Disney as well as the people who produce Miss Marple and Murder She Wrote, and Olivier's Henry V for the free marketing plug they all get in this chapter. Hey, these people should be paying me!

* * *

_Bella was running. That was all she knew. She was running through seemingly endless passageways and corridors, searching for something, but she did not know what. No matter how fast she ran she never seemed to get anywhere. The walls were lit with torches. Torch after torch lit her way through the blackness, but in truth, there was no way because Bella didn't know where or what she was running to. She sensed her destination was important, she sensed it was a matter of urgency, and she kept on running._

Bella woke up. For one exquisitely happy moment, she thought she was still in her armchair in front of the fire waiting for her father to come home. However, once her eyes adjusted, she came face to face with the stark reality of where she was. The bed she was lying on was covered in blankets and quilts that were far too soft. The long flowing curtains by the window were far too elegant and luxurious, and the pillow, now slightly damp, was far too frilly and fussy. This room made her room back home seem like a hovel, and she hated it.

Bella swung her legs round and climbed off of the ed. The murky indigo colour around her told her that it was getting dark outside. She wondered just how long she had been sleeping, and then walked to the window and looked at the view. The sun had just finished setting, a fact she immediately resented as she hated missing the beauty of sunsets, and the moon was yet to appear. It was that strange transitional period between day and night, unsettling and uncertain. Bella peered into the ducky gloom, trying to figure out where exactly she was n the world, but all she could see was the forest; the trees indistinguishable from one another and melted into one big clump of darkest green.

Since the world outside the window gave her little comfort, she turned her back on it and walked towards the door, just catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she went past it. She looked a mess. Her hair stuck out at all angles, her clothes were rumpled and her eyes were dull and lifeless. Caring even less than she usually did, Bella shrugged and turned to find a piece of paper had been shoved under her door during her slumber. She picked it up, her tired eyes flashing as she read each word.

_I have now unlocked your door. You are welcome in my house from now on, but please note that the attic is strictly out of bounds. Every other room is open to you so please explore should you feel the need. You must be hungry after your long rest. The kitchen is down the stairs and to the left._

As if in afterthought, an extra line had been added at the bottom:

_I hope you slept ok._

Bella crumpled the piece of paper and threw it over her shoulder.

"Idiot!" she said under her breath, and stopped herself. Why was she whispering? He couldn't hear he? She found herself nervously giggling again at her overactive imagination. "Of course he couldn't!"

Nonetheless, she checked all around her before opening the door.

The corridor outside was now devoid of sunlight and so infinitely more sinister. She shivered and walked hastily down the stairs and to the left, as her captor had directed. After all, she hadn't eaten since yesterday lunchtime and now her stomach was gurgling and rumbling beneath her crossed arms and jumper.

As she opened the door to the kitchen, she was surprised to find it relatively clean and tidy, and at least three times the size of he kitchen at home. Cupboard took up most of the wall space with a large walk-in fridge at one end, and an impressive stove took up nearly a whole wall on its own.

"Too showy!" thought Bella, as she walked further into the room. She was relieved to find a kettle and a microwave on one of the surfaces. Right now, all she wanted was a cup of something hot and a plate of something edible.

After a lot of rummaging, boiling, cutting and spreading, Bella sat down at the table with a cup of steaming tea, some chocolate biscuits and a cheese sandwich. As she slurped and nibbled, she found herself wondering more and more about the strange man who was trying to keep her.

The cupboard and fridge had been well-stocked, albeit with mostly convenience foods. Where did he get it all from? Somehow she couldn't imagine him wandering round a supermarket. And both the kitchen and her bedroom had been cleaned recently, unlike the hallway. Was he really as alone as he seemed, or did he just have nothing better to do than get food for people who would never eat it and clean for people who would never tut at the dust on a sideboard? People that once would have filled a house of this size but were now obviously long gone. The mystery of it all was strangely alluring as if she was in some yet-to-be-written detective novel. She half-expected to see Miss Marple or Jessica Fletcher peering through doorways and traipsing through the corridors searching for clues to a murder that was yet to take place.

Bella shuddered and inwardly scolded herself. How was she supposed to approach the situation rationally when all she could think of were scary movies and whodunits?

The sweetness of the biscuits and warmth of the tea were starting to make her feel a bit better. Food usually had a soothing effect on her. She was surprised she wasn't grossly overweight by now. The cheese in her sandwich was her favourite; mature cheddar, and on malted bread. If it wasn't for the suffocating emptiness around her, she could almost imagine she was in her own kitchen. She closed her eyes and did just that while she finished her meal. Thank goodness for simple pleasures!

Althought belle was tempted to just leave her dirty dishes out, the natural clean freak in her found her washing up at the industrial-sized sink shortly afterwards. She had already decided exactly where she was going next. The attic. The mystery and curiosity was far too great for her to ignore and defying his orders pleased Bella greatly. Who was he to tell her what she could and couldn't do anyway? What was he hiding ip there that he didn't want her to see? The bodies of his previous guests whispered something at the back of her head. She mentally told it to shut up.

She found the attic easily enough. There was only one flight of stairs that ked to the third floor and once she had climbed those, checking all around her first of course, there was only a short corridor with a heavy-looking doer at the end between her and the mysterious attic room. As she walked down the corridor, she became aware of several paintings on either side. They seemed to depict lots of generations of the same family. The portraits all seemed fairly old though so gave her no clue to the true identity of the house's current resident. Before she knew it, she was r5ight up in front of the doors which seemed even larger now. She out her ear against the door but no sound came from within. Her eyes noticed a study looking keyhole and her heart sank. They were bound to be locked. No harm in trying though. Unbelievably, there was no resistance to her intrusion at all. The door handle turned and the doors opened. Only the squeaking hinges gave away any sign of protest, but Bella was satisfied that they weren't loud enough to give her away and so, with one last glance behind her, she quietly slipped into the room.

The first thing she noticed was that the object of her thoughts was nowhere to be seen. She found herself breathing a sigh of relief when she realised that he was not waiting behind the door ready to jump out at her. Nervously, she quickly scanned the room for signs of life but there was none. She was surprised to feel the tiniest twinge of disappointment. Has she wanted to get caught? Se felt like a child at Christmas, sneaking downstairs on the stroke of midnight to see Santa Claus, but finding only a tree and a few presents.

Bella sniggered at her minds comparison. Well, eh did have a beard but she doubted whether red was his colour. Curse her mind for wandering at the most inappropriate moments! She had work to do.

The attic room was deceptively small, and every inch was crammed with possessions. The room was lit by a single bulb swinging to and fro in an unfelt breeze. She could see a large desk covered with papers and drawing implements of all shapes and sizes in one corner and in another corner was a bed, perfectly made and tidy. It looked odd amongst all the rest of the chaos in the room. There was a small window and Bella rushed towards it desperate to see what she could from the other side of the house. She wasn't disappointed. From this window, she could only see a small part of forest and then there was her town! Her home! She could see the main street and little houses and shops dotted either side of the road. The lamps were just coming on and people were starting to leave, probably to get home where a nice dinner would be waiting for them.

Bella sighed in longing, and reluctantly moved towards the desk. Piles and piles of drawings took up most of the space and were framed with pencils, chalk, pens and pastels. The first picture she picked up was a landscape. Crudely drawn with coloured chalk, yet magnificent in its simplistic splendour. And such detail! She could even see a little bird singing on a tree branch and every leaf surrounding it. The sky was a blend of every single blue she could think of; azures and sapphires were woven with navies and indigos, and the effect was so real she expected the clouds to slowly puff across the horizon. Not wanting to take her eyes off of it, but being beaten by her desire to see more, she placed it down on the desk and looked at the next picture. This one was more fantastical. It was of a medieval joust. Two knights faced each other from opposite ends of the paper, lances drawn and horses in mid-gallop. She could almost hear the roar of the crowd and the chink of the knights' armour bursting out of the brightly-coloured image. It reminded her a little of a film adaptation of Henry V that her father had insisted they rent. That too was brightly coloured and full of life and pageantry and had featured Laurence Olivier. She imagined him as one of the knights; maybe the one that in the drawing that looked more likely to win. The determination behind his visor was just a little stronger than the others. She smiled and picked up the next picture, and almost dropped it again. A gasp tried to escape from the back of her throat but it stuck halfway up, and Bella had to swallow it.

It was her! The likeness was uncanny. Her own face stared up at her from the paper. It was both eerie and mesmerising. It was a simple pencil drawing and picked out her eyes and her mouth in minute detail. Her hair was slightly wavy as it often was because of Bella's refusal to spend hours in front of the mirror straightening it every morning, and her bottom lip seemed to quiver ever so slightly. But the feature that struck Bella most was the gentle strokes that had formed the tears at the corner of her eyes. They were hardly noticeable yet stood out as if the artist had deliberately drawn them that way. Bella didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Was this how she appeared to others? Constantly on the verge of weeping? When had he drawn this? There was a date etched into the corner of the paper and she struggled to read it as the figures seemed to swim in front of her eyes; 4th February 2005. That was yesterday's date, a good twenty-four hours at least before he had met her……….

Unseen eyes seemed to crawl up the nape of Bella's neck. She whimpered and threw the picture back on the desk. She didn't like the ideas her mind was presenting to her. She suddenly decided she didn't want to explore anymore, she didn't want to stay in the place for a moment longer, and she turned to run out of the door. Alas, her plans were thwarted as her over-anxious eyes saw something tucked she hadn't noticed on one side of the door. It was a small table. Nothing odd about that you might think, but it was what was on the table that had caused all other thoughts to flee from Bella's mind. A single red rose sat in a clear vase on one side of the table and right in the centre there was a photo frame. Bella felt herself drawn towards the printm and she felt her hand pick up the simple black plastic frame so she could see into it.

The picture was of three people; a family. It had been taken in front of a fireplace and was strangely reminiscent of old-fashioned Victorian style photography although the picture was in colour and obviously far later in date. Yet the father figure stood tall and straight; the mother figure sat in a chair beside him, her arms folded gently in her lap. Both were expressionless. They wore the sort of half-grimace that occurs in photographs when the subjects don't particularly want their photo taken. Her father had many like that that had been taken for newspapers. Uncomfortable posing. However, the boy in the photograph was different. He looked about 8 or 9 years old and had a huge grin plastered on his face almost stretching from ear to ear. It looked so odd next to the straight-faced parents. However the boy's eyes were also in direct contrast to his smile. They had no sparkle, no trace of the joy that should have accompanied such a beaming grin. He was then also posing; but in a way that tried to hide what his parents seemed so keen to show. This simple yet alarmingly complex photo had more of an effect on belle than the drawings had; she could not bring herself to put it down and stop staring at the boys tragic eyes. She was so lost in the picture that she had not noticed that she was no longer alone in the room.

Indeed, she probably would have stood there most of the evening if a cough behind her hadn't made her heart take a defiant and sudden leap into her throat. She whipped around with a sharp intake of breath and in doing so felt her grip loosen on the pecious object in her hand. There was silence as the picture seemed to fall in slow-motion. Two sets of eyes watched it spiral down, down, down to the hard wooden floorboards, and two sets of ears caught the sharp sound as it hit the floor; the thud of the frame breaking, the tinkle as the glass shattered everywhere.

* * *

Hugs and love for all my reviewers. You're all fantastic, I couldn't ask for better encouragement :)

**TrudiRose-**Thanks once again for your detailed and helpful review. What I'm writing is how my brain is interpreting the story so seeing as I feed it with loads of movie and horror gunk, its no surpirse there are elements of that coming out in the story. I'm glad I'm getting the realism right. It's actually quite difficult to do without detracting from the magical qualities of the story, cos I am trying to retain some of those elements. The Beast is gonna be probably quite a complicated character cos he has two personalities that both want equal control over his thoughts and action (Literal schizophrenia if you like, but he's not schizophrenic. Well, he's not really intended to be. Think like the Phantom of the Opera and you're kind of there...sorry I'm waffling! Why don't we get instructions? Thats just mean!

**LumBabsFan-**No worries! I mean I'm not exactly the most punctual person on here. You are forgiven(as long as you forgive my lack of updating)Glad you're enjoying the story so far :) And, yeah, it would be difficult for me not to mention Gerard Butler as the man is gorgeous! Always good to find someone else whos a fan, makes me seem less deluded!

**Bellamegs- **Please don't damn me:) It's scary! I couldn't help myself with the Alice In Wonderland thing. I can see me trying to squeeze in quite a few little references like that. Yes, the beast is odd, but thats part of his appeal. There's a good reason why I'm not referring to him by name yet. Don't worry his name will appear soon when I reckon the time is right. I know me referring to him as a beast is slightly annoying but he is kind of a beast, well, he is at the moment anyway. If it gets too distracting then I might go back at a later date and change how I refer to him, but at the moment you only have to put up with it for a tiny bit longer. I've got a name all ready for him, its waiting in the wings ready for its cue!

**Rosakara **and **Hana**- :) I'm glad you're still enjoying it, hope it stays that way!


	9. Saviour

PLEASE NOTE: This chapter features both physical and potential sexual violence. If you are easily offended, please don't read. It's not as bad as it could be but I don't want to upset anyone. It's important to the storyline otherwise I would not have put it in. Please bear this in mind before you read on. Thank-you.

Disclaimer- If this is Disney, I'm a one-legged dolphin.

* * *

At first, Bella couldn't take her eyes off of the smashed photo. One thought kept resounding in her head. It should have been the rose. If she had picked up anything off of that table, it should have been the rose. You could pick a rose again and watch it bloom better than the one before it. But a photograph………something told her this photograph was irreplaceable. Somehow she tore her eyes away from the shattered image and lifted her head to meet the eyes of the image's owner. He, too, was staring at the photo. It felt like several minutes had gone by, when in reality mere seconds had passed. Bella opened her mouth, and then closed it again. What should she say? "Oops!" "Sorry!" Somehow both seemed empty. But before she could think of anything else, she noticed he was now staring directly at her, and that stare sent shivers up and down her spine.

She'd never noticed his eyes up until now. They were a strange greeny-blue colour like a Caribbean sea and they bore into her soul. The intensity of his gaze was hypnotising but at the same time darkly menacing.

"What did you do?"

His voice was strained as if he was struggling to control it.

"I….I….I'm sorry. It was an accident…..I…" she found herself gasping for breath. She realised she was absolutely terrified. He was moving very slowly towards her, every step carefully measured.

"I told you not to come up here. Why didn't you do as I asked?"

"I….I……."

Words failed Bella, as she didn't know the answer herself. Why didn't she run when she had the chance?

He was now directly in front of her. She tried to back away but found she was already up against the wall as if she was being cornered. She noticed his hand at either side of his body. They were clenched into fists; the knuckles had turned deathly white. Her eyes once again met his as if she was powerless to stop them. She noticed he was trembling and the beautiful sea in his eyes was stormy. To her slight surprise, tears were forming at the corner of his eyes, as if the sea was trying to break its barriers and flood them both. Bella couldn't look anymore. She closed her eyes and braced herself for what she was sure was coming, but it didn't happen. This was cruel, like a cat playing with a mouse. When would it end? But as Bella opened her eyes again, he was not in front of them. Instead he was now kneeling on the floor his shoulders shaking as if in the aftermath of some internal earthquake. His fingers were running all over the floor collecting the pieces of the glass in the frame.

Bella was not taking any more chances. She ran straight out of the door. Down the corridor, down the stairs, through the hall and out of the front door, and she kept on running, unsure of where she was going. It was now completely dark, but the normally sinister shades of the forest had no effect on her. Only one thought filled her mind. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN it screamed.

She ran through mud and twigs, moss and lichen, shrubs and grass. She hopped over roots and ducked under branches. Her feet didn't know they could move so fast but her face was determined. She didn't care where she ran as long as it was away, but she seemed to run forever. She didn't remember the forest being this big, as she ran further and deeper into the wilderness, but nature seemed to welcome her. She knew it wouldn't hurt her. It did not have the destructive power that humans had. It was only passive and accepting.

And so Bella ran, in terrified bliss, on and on………

But at some point she had to stop. You cannot run from your troubles forever. Sooner or later, you get tired and they catch up with you, or new troubles make you forget why you were running in the first place. It was the latter that happened to Bella.

She was so caught up with her running that when she first ran into the clearing, she didn't register what she was seeing. In fact she might have ran straight past if it wasn't for the troublesome bramble that caught her ankle and brought her down hard face-first into the mud.

"Ow!" she thought as her ankle throbbed beneath her, but right now her ankle was the least of her worries, as she realised when she heard a voice above her.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Then a snigger.

Bella didn't know it yet, but Morris had heard the same voice only the day before.

She felt an arm grab hers and roughly yank her up.

"You should watch where you're going, baby. Or I could watch you instead if you liked."

More sniggers.

Bella wasn't sure if she should thank the scruffy boy who was still tightly gripping her arm. He couldn't have been that old, maybe a few years younger than her, but his eyes were bloodshot, his skin marred by acne and other less usual scars. He had a scrubby little goatee. Yes, there was nothing of youthly innocence about this face. She looked, still a little dazed, at the rest of the scene. A small campfire was in the middle of the clearing but it hadn't been built by boy scouts. Two other figures sat by the fire, a half-empty whisky bottle nestled in the grass between them. One of them was smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, its contents part of a wider selection of drugs that were arranged carefully around the space. She had unwittingly crashed some sort of illegal intoxication party. She found herself being hauled towards the fire.

"Welcome. I'm snigger Grant and this is….er….Bagsy and….snigger Dinger. What's your name, sweetheart?"

He blew a combination of stagnant breath and foul tobacco right into her face.

"Let go of me."

Bella struggled in his grip. These guys didn't frighten her as much as the beast had but she still didn't want to stick around and enjoy their company.

"Hey, what's the rush? Have a drag, it'll calm you down."

He shoved the spitty roll-up into her face, trying to put it in her mouth but she twisted her head away from it.

"Get…off….of…me….you…. moron!"

All Bella felt now was anger. She'd had enough of men trying to push her around in the last few days to last a lifetime. She did not want to give these drugged-up goons any kind of satisfaction of thinking she was an easy target.

"Hey, she's feisty. I like it."

The sniggers had started to sound almost hyena-like. The two youths by the fire were barking and coughing at everything the leader said as though he was the world's funniest comedian. The whisky bottle was now being passed back and forth between them in this bizarre cabaret.

Bella had had enough. She slapped the leader hard across the face, expecting him to let go of her as Tristan had done, but he hardly moved. For the first time since running from the house, Bella felt a genuine twinge of fear. She had underestimated these boys. God only knows just how inebriated they actually were if they had become temporarily numb to pain. The whisky bottle glinted in the firelight.

"That wasn't very nice" hissed the voice of the leader. She felt his grip tighten even more on her arm and she yelped like a wounded animal. Her cries of pain obviously pleased him as he giggled like a school-girl, before once again reverting back to dangerous seriousness.

"Do you know what happens to naughty little girls who try and fight back?"

She said nothing as it was obviously a rhetorical question, but he didn't seem to agree with her.

"Do you?" he snarled shaking her.

She shook her head.

"Shall I tell you?"

The two others were now on their feet, their whisky suddenly forgotten as they started to surround her. They were not sniggering anymore.

With the last of her strength, Bella lashed out at the three faces simultaneously but her limbs were weak as though every ounce of blood had been drained from them. All she succeeded in doing was waggling her free arm slightly in a manner which would have been comic if it hadn't been so tragic.

The youths had finished playing. She was pushed to the ground, her arm throbbing in pain, her ankle all but forgotten. Sobbing, she tried to get back up but something knelt on her back and pulled her arms round until they locked crossed behind her. She felt hot breath on her ear and then a repulsive wetness as a tongue was dragged across her neck. She shuddered in disgust, and then tried to scream. She got as far as opening her mouth before they seemed to sense what she was about to do and pushed her face into the mud, choking her screams with dirt. She gasped for air as she was squashed further into the stinking soil.

Suddenly she was lifted out and flipped around, her arms now being repositioned and pinned above her head by one youth as another held her legs down by the ankles. Her eyes goggled in horror as she fully comprehended what was about to happen. Her struggles were getting her nowhere so all she could do was close her eyes and wait.

She wasn't waiting long before something unexpected happened. The pressure on her wrists suddenly stopped as the owner of them let out a startled shout. The shout seemed to automatically open her eyes for her. She looked straight up into the blackness of the sky, and became aware of a commotion to her left. She tried to get up but her body had not yet caught up with her mind in alertness so all she could do was roll-over and then half-sit up. While she waited for the blood to drain back into her heavy legs, she looked to see what had saved her from a fate she didn't want to think about.

One youth was writhing on the floor clutching his arm which was now unnaturally aligned with the rest of his body. The other two were busy fighting with someone just beyond the fire. Bella struggled to see who it was. She could just make out long straggly hair. It was him!

Great! she thought. Now they were fighting over who got the honour of desecrating her. She tried to move again but to no avail so once again, helpless, she could only watch the battle like a Roman in the Coliseum could only watch as a gladiator got mauled by a lion. This synonym struck Bella because she realised that her captor-turned-rescuer was getting badly beaten. After all, two against one was never good odds, especially when the two were running on more than just adrenaline.

The one was not going down easily, that was for sure. For every few punches that rained down on him, one came back, even if they did seem to be getting more and more misdirected. Bella was suddenly hit with the urge to help him, but this was quickly over-ruled by her common sense. Even if she could stop them hitting him, who's to say he wouldn't hit her as a thank-you. Still, it hurt to have to sit and watch someone being beaten up.

Suddenly the punches stopped flying and a body slumped to the ground. With utter horror, Bella saw the beast sprawled on the ground now a mass of blood and bruises. The two youths turned around and noticed her watching.

With a shriek that was too high for humans to hear, Bella decided her limbs were going to work for her now whether they liked it or not. She had just managed to scramble to her feet when was she rugby-tackled from behind.

"Oh no you don't!" roared a voice in her ear, and then tried to finish the job it had started earlier. Bella slapped and scratched his face but it now made less difference than it had previously. Nonetheless she was determined not to let this happen.

On the other side of the clearing, the body that had been left was stirring. The scene that now danced in front of his eyes was stronger than any of his wounds. Shakily but doggedly, he picked himself up ignoring the pain that was shooting through every part of his body and as silently as he could, he crept up behind the boy that was now wrestling furiously with Bella on the ground. His keen sight noticed something very handy sticking out of the boys back pocket and he lunged, or rather fell, towards it, gritting his teeth in determination.

Bella's sudden rush of strength was startling the boy slightly as he fought to keep her from doing him some damage. Why wasn't she giving in? They normally did. Just as he felt he was finally going to get the better of her, a new problem presented itself. All he felt before the excruciatingly cold metal against his throat was a tiny touch at his back pocket. Bella watched in amazement as he slowly got off of her and stood up, the knife at his throat dictating everything he did. She was even more amazed when she realised who the hand that was holding the knife belonged to. Green eyes could be seen over her attackers shoulder; green eyes that somehow were noticeable through the bruising that was starting to appear all around them.

The other youth that was capable of standing was also now standing rigid not daring to move lest he have to watch his friend and ally get killed. He had spent the last few moments tending to his other friend whose arm was clearly broken, oblivious to what had been taking place.

The whole clearing was still, no-one daring to provoke one another. The only sounds were the pitiful squeals of Bagsy as he tried to move his arm somewhere to the left of the complex situation involving everyone else. Bella was half-lying half-sitting on the ground. Dinger was standing stock still, and the man who I can only refer to as the beast (although it sounds kind of redundant now) was holding a knife to the throat of a whimpering Grant who daren't swallow for fear his Adam's apple would get sliced clean off. The whisky was getting too warm to drink by the fire.

The first one to make any sort of intelligible sound was the beast, and to the dismay of Dinger, it was directed at him.

"Leave now or I'll kill him."

Dinger could only nod and catch the terrified eyes of his leader and friend whom he saw were only too happy to comply.

He found his voice.

"Let him go and we'll leave." He noticed Bagsy on the ground. "All of us."

The beast stared straight into his eyes as if searching for lies, but all he could see was fear. He released the knife from Grant's throat and shoved him forwards. A scared but relieved Grant scrambled up from the ground, took one last look at those awful green eyes, and then ran.

He was closely followed by Dinger carrying Bagsy over his shoulder like a fireman. The whisky bottle fell and spilled its contents on the ground.

The beast threw the knife on the floor in disgust, and looked directly into Bella's eyes. He made as if to move towards her but fell to the floor before he could take another step.

Bella's head was swimming, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the last ten minutes. Then she remembered the thought that had started it all.

RUN!

Before she had time to think of anything else tangible, she got up off the floor and made to run the opposite direction to Grant, Bagsy and Dinger. But something stopped her. The same thing that had stopped her running out of the house as soon as she had had the chance. Every inch of her common sense screamed at her to get out of the clearing as fast as she could. She could almost feel her brainwaves tugging at the nerve-endings to her feet. But they tugged in vain, as Bella was already turning round to see the slumped figure of her rescuer. He was barely conscious, and he looked in a bad way.

Bella gingerly walked towards him, as if expecting him to get up any moment, but the only thing that moved was the gentle rise and fall of his chest. She knelt beside him and whispered.

"Can you move at all?"

He looked at her and nodded very slightly.

A few minutes later, Bella found herself walking back to the castle with the man she had been running away from leaning on her shoulder.

* * *

Phew! I feel exhausted after writing that scene! I've never choreographed a fight sequence before so I hope it reads ok. I'm really gonna make an effort now to update regularly so feel free to shout at me if I don't! Thanks again for all your reviews ( I know I keep saying it) as I couldn't write if it wasn't for you guys. Its soi encouraging to check my mail-box and find all those kind words staring back at me. You rock!

**TrudiRose –** The non-escape thing. I tried to imply in that chapter that the beast had some sort of power over her i.e he told her to get something to eat, she went to get something to eat that would have temporarily stopped her escape plans. Also the fact that she was curious about the house…Maybe I didn't make it obvious enough. Thanks for pointing it out though. Let me know if it continues to cause a problem and I'll go back and change a few bits, cos I do want to make this convincing. I really appreciate your input cos you're a fantastic writer and seem to know what you're talking about so its always helpful if you point out bits that don;'t make sense. After all I am an amateur and its only natural that I'll get bits wrong from time to time.

Yes, it is turning out scarier isn't it? I think because when you put the situation into a modern-day context you realise just how dark moments of the original film could have been. This chapter is sooo not Disney-like, but it needed to be.

**Bellamegs**- You say such nice things and what you say bout the putting little bits of me in there is sooo true. I love putting in little touches of my own cos it helps the story feel more like I have some control over it. Bella is slowly turning into me, although if I was Bella I would have run for my life a long time ago cos I'm a wuss. Well done for spotting the rose/ family portrait comparison, I always worry about whether things like that being obvious or not, but you got it so yay! So you are not delusional (that's always good to know!)

**LumBabsFan- **I'm glad my descriptions are working. I never know if I'm good at them cos I never seem to go to as much detail as I would like. But you're happy so I'm happy! Woohoo!

**Rosakara- blushes** I don't know if 'genius' is right, but if you want to call me one I'm not going to complain….. :p

I'm deliriously happy now, got a slight headache, but still happy! A virtual hug and chocolate cheesecake for everyone! Hurray! Oh and by the way, I also just bought the John Savage and Rebecca De Mornay version of BatB, anyone else seen it?


	10. Nurse

Disclaimer- Disney rules the world. End of.

* * *

Bella found the lamp switch after much searching and clicked it on. The light it gave out was small but adequate, and illuminated the chaise-longue where the figure of the beat now lay awkwardly so Bella could tend his wounds. Initially, upon briefly surveying the damage, Bella had wanted to call an ambulance but the beast had used the little strength he had left to shake his head furiously and state matter-of-factly that if an ambulance and paramedics were to come to the house, they would have no-one to treat as he would disappear. He knew places that no-one else could fins, he had said, between breaths each word requiring more effort from his winded chest.

Bella had resisted the temptation to protest, feeling his icy-green stare on her skin till she was too weary to argue.

Now he was trying to sit upright on the chaise-longue and succeeding, to Bella's surprise. Maybe he was just badly bruised more than anything else. The area around his left eye was now puffy and swollen, and turning a reddish-purple colour which tried to engulf the green-ness of his iris but just ended up making it all the more startling. His other eye was rid-rimmed but otherwise untouched. A muddy gash cut his left cheek in two.

His nose was also slightly misshapen and parts of his thin moustache were clumped and sticky with the blood that had oozed in rivulets from his nostrils a few moments before. Bella couldn't see any other wounds so far, and luckily she felt she knew enough about First Aid to at least clean him up a bit. She asked whether he had First Aid supplies in the house and he pointed in the direction of the kitchen whilst muttering something about shelves in cupboards.

Bella was on auto-pilot. She did not want to think about possible actions and consequences, only that she could finally use the basic skills her father had taught her over and over until she could recite them like her times tables. He had always wanted to ensure that she knew what to do if anything were to happen to him. She had never wanted to remember, and now she reluctantly let thoughts of her father temporarily leave her. For now, she just wanted to focus on more immediate problems. Her out-stretched hand finally found an old ice-cream tub right at the top of one cupboard and filled with lots of packets and bottles as well as dust and a few dead insects. Bella also filled a saucepan with hot water, and then carried it along with the tub into the room that the guessed was intended to be a living-room of some sort. It contained several cluttered tables and chairs as well as a long-cold fireplace and the chaise-longue that her patient was sitting on whilst running his dirty fingers gingerly over his eyes and nose.

"Don't do that!" said Bella, maybe a little too sharply, as he suddenly jerked his head and grimaced. Quieter she added

"It might get infected."

She set the pan and tub down on the floor, and then went through the tub looking for anything useful and still in-date. The beast watched her with silent curiosity as she picked out bandages and antiseptic. The low lamp light played upon her hair, bringing out tones of warm copper and red amongst the mousy-brown. Her head seemed alive with colour, although messy and strewn with mud and grass from the forest floor. Without thinking, the beast reached out and gently removed a tiny twig from her hair, and she jumped as if he had yanked out one of her hairs. This made him jerk backwards suddenly and wince as he accidentally hit his arm on the back of the chaise-longue.

Bella flushed slightly red as she realised he had merely removed a twig and not a clump of anything that was actually attached to her. She heard him wince but could not think of anything to say that wouldn't sound stupid, so instead she tried to read the different languages on the back of the box of antiseptic. Her eyes finally focussed on the English between the French and German instructions, even though she already knew how to use the cream.

The room was uncomfortably silent. Even the rain that had started to fall outside the window seemed to making a special effort to drip as quietly as it could down the glass and on to the sill. Bella wrung a cloth out above the pan of hot water, then submerged it and wrung it out again, feeling the water warm her hands just a little. She wrung it out one last time and then turned to face the beast. He had obviously been watching her intently as now he suddenly stared down at his lap as though something of great interest lay atop his thighs. Bella carefully pressed the cloth to the cut on his cheek and began to wipe out the dirt that was in it. She bit her lip as she did this because she felt certain that he would react violently to the pain, but instead he hardly flinched. She looked and noticed that he was also biting his lip, although she couldn't tell whether he was doing it from pain or from anxiety, like she was.

The clock on the mantelpiece ticked disdainfully as Bella tended to his visible wounds, applying antiseptic and bandages where necessary. While this was happening, he hardly moved, keeping his eyes focused elsewhere except when she inspected his black eye, where he had no choice but to see him reflected in her gaze, No sound passed between them.

When Bella was finished with his face, she inspected her handiwork. It was by no means perfectly neat or tidy but she was fairly confident it would suffice. She was just about to clear everything away when she noticed a dark red stain on his shirt underneath his right arm. She hadn't spoken for a while so her voice came slightly choked as she requested that he take off his shirt so she could see what had caused the stain.

Somewhat reluctantly, the beast did as he was told and slowly pulled the shirt over his head, being careful not to catch his dressings, and Bella's eyes suddenly bulged slightly out of her head. The slash on his side was only small and not too deep; the stain had been misleading. Bella hardly noticed it-she was too bust staring at his torso. No wonder he had been able to withstand all the punishment he had taken. He was in very good shape; muscular and lean. Not the bodybuilder-style physique that Tristan had (and took every available opportunity to show off) but the more functional, toned build you would normally expect to see on an athlete. He obviously took some care of his health and fitness.

'Well...' Bella thought to herself '….what else would he have to do all day, being as alone as he clearly was.'

Working out no doubt kept his mind active as well as his body. She found herself pitying him as she pondered the reasons behind his well-maintained body. She didn't realise she was till staring at him, lost in thought, and not sensing how self-conscious she was making him feel. He squirmed uneasily as he was not used to people noticing him, let alone staring at him as the girl seemed to be doing now. Flustered, he reached for his shirt and made as if to put it back on, which snapped Bella out of her distraction.

"Oh god...sorry…I…" her cheeks flushed a deep red as she realised what he must be thinking.

"Your cut…erm…just needs a plaster. I…erm…didn't mean to…er…"

Whilst she was jabbering, she managed to hurriedly dig out a plaster and place it rather haphazardly over his cut, trying her best not to touch his skin. She cleared her throat.

"Well…erm…that should do for now. You will need to...er...change the dressings every day but…er…you should be ok."

Inexplicably and somewhat angrily, Bella felt her eyes start to itch. With great effort, she managed to stop the awkwardness of the situation making her cry. At times she hated how sensitive she was. If she let him see her cry, it would just make the situation even worse, so she subtly wiped her hands over her eyes and started to pack everything back into the ice-cream tub.

Suddenly he spoke,

"Why didn't you escape before?"

Bella was so startled at the sound of his voice that she could only manage a strangled..."Huh?"

He started again.

"Before…I left your door unlocked. I thought you would go."

He looked directly into her eyes, and for the first time, it occurred to Bella that he might be human. His eyes, which seemed to fluctuate between emotions so quickly, were now filled with confusion and curiosity.

Bella gave the only answer she could.

"I don't know."

He paused as if contemplating this.

"When I saw you in the attic, I was surprised more than anything. I didn't expect you to be there…"

Bella interrupted.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to….well…you scared me. It just…." She swallowed quickly. "…fell."

"It's ok. The photo's fine, just the frame….er…..I'm sorry if I scared you."

He said these last few words quickly, and while lowering his eyes as if he was afraid to meet her gaze.

"I'm still sorry. I had no right to go through your things…I was just…well….curious."

Anger suddenly bubbled up from somewhere inside Bella.

"Actually…no. I'm not gonna apologise. What else did you expect me to do? You'd just taken my father away from me and……"

"I expected you to leave me."

Bella frowned, puzzled. That was an odd way of putting it. He continued, as if in explanation.

"Everyone leaves me."

His eyes were full of sorrow and pain, yet he did not shed a tear, which somehow was worse. Emotion is meant to be poured out, not tightly constricted within you, devouring your soul.

Bella did not know what to think. Part of her was still reeling from the events of the past two days. Another part of her wanted her father. The final part of her was the part she recoiled at, yet simultaneously accepted. This part of her told her she belonged here, that she wanted to help him. It was the part of her that her father had often laughingly scolded her for, saying that she was too soft for her own good. She remembered one time when she was little, just after her mother had died, she had found a skinny rat limping and struggling near the kitchen door. Her father had gone to the shed and picked up his shot-gun intending to put it out of its misery, but she had begged him not to, and instead to let her keep it and nurse it back to health. Her father had laughed his head off for about ten minutes before he finally relented. And so the rat had moved in to an old fish tank in Bella's bedroom while she fed it and watched over it. Perky (as she had named him) soon outgrew the fish-tank and Bella had felt her heart-break with happiness as she and her father eventually let it go in a field near their house. Her benevolent nature had never gone away, often to the point where she had let people take unfair advantage of her, but she refused to let it bother her. Her father often said she let her heart rule her head and that one day it would get her into trouble she wouldn't be able to charm her way out of.

But her father wasn't here. Still, she didn't know what to do. It would be madness; utter madness for her to stay here, but then again, maybe the world needed more mad people. Bella suddenly realised how tired she was. The physical exhaustion she should have felt immediately after what had happened in the forest was now catching up with her, and she needed a clear head to decide what to do.

"I'm going to bed." were the carefully selected only words she said.

She stood up and walked to the door, but suddenly let her manners prevent her from having the last word. She turned round to see him still sitting on the chaise-longue, seemingly staring into space.

"I'm Bella, by the way."

There was silence for a few seconds, and then he lifted his head and looked at her.

"I'm Bastian."

* * *

Woohoo! Chapter over! And so his name has been revealed. He's named after a character in one of my favourite movies (The Never Ending Story) and I know its not one of the usual names people use on here for the beast, but he's not your normal beast. Hope you guys think this is ok, I know it might be annoying that he's not called Vincent, but I really prefer this name. (It's gonna be short for SEBastian by the way, which is French so it kind of fits!)

I also hope I haven't made this chapter too boring. I was trying to create the right atmosphere after the excitement in the last chapter, and well, I hope it works. I'm sure you guys will tell me if it doesn't. And so we move on to the reviews…

**Bellamegs-** Lol, swearing is fine. It's the best way to express yourself I reckon! I can't believe I gave you goosebumps, that is so…well….surreal (to steal your adjective!) Yay!

**TrudiRose- **Thanks! I thought long and hard about the most realistic way to do that scene and I'm so glad it worked! My b/f read it afterwards and picked loads of holes in the fight bit (cos hes mean like that) but I'm writing fanfiction here, not a martial arts manual! Glad you're still enjoying it!

**LumBabsFan-**Yay! You liked it! And I'm also liking that its not Disney, cos after all the original fairy-tales were a lot darker, and well, you can't really bring them update without making them dark again cos after all we don't live in a world wirh fairies and magic and all that (although I wish we did!) And the Rebecca DeMornay version of the film has arrived! It was one of my faves as a kid as well but I got rid of it for some reason, only just found a copy again (its been deleted in the UK since 1992) so I'm well chuffed

**Beautygirl- **Sorry for putting Bella in that situation, but I felt it had to be done. Don't worry it won't happen again as far as I can see, she's done her hard bit, its up to the fellas now to do the pain and agony thing! No worries about not previously reviewing the other chapters, I understand how it can get tedious reviewing over and over again. I've already kind of got the ending in my head, and it will be a little different at least cos we have no actual enchantment, but hopefully it should still be interesting. I have a great idea for a twist as well, but that's all to come, Got to get there first!

**Anonymous-**I prefer to be modest, that's just me. Yeah, its probably irritating but there you go. Like I said, I'm a total beginner at this, I genuinely don't know if this sory is going to be any good, but it seems to be going that way, so I'm happy! And my day was sparkling, thanks to my reviewers!

**Asp- **Beauty and the Beast is my favourite fairy-tale too, always has been, probably always will be. I haven't heard of the version you've mentioned, but I'll definitely make a note of it and have a look around for it. Thanks for the recommendation.

Everyone! I know I sound like a broken record, but thanks again for all your reviews. You're all so great and encouraging, I just hope I'm as helpful when I review yours.


	11. Fighter

Ok, so we're going to leave Bella and Bastien to get acquainted for a moment, and in the meantime, we're gonna pay Tristan a little visit to see how things are going with him, then we might visit Morris as well, cos it would only be right to check up on him after the experiences he's had in the last few days. Bear with me; we'll get back to Bella and Bastien in good time!

Disclaimer: - Please don't sue me, Mr. Disney, for the evil plagiarising I'm about to do. Amen. (Actually this chapter is not really to do with the film so he can't really do anything, can he?)

* * *

Tristan slammed the door hard behind him. The noise made the ornaments on the mantelpiece quiver just a little and the crystals on his step-mother's favourite chandelier jingle somewhat dangerously, but he didn't care. He was in a foul mood. He often came back to the house at least fairly angry when things didn't go his way but this time he was beyond furious. He took his rage out on the nearest available object, which happened to be the hat stand, and it fell to the floor with a clatter, scattering coats and hats all over the floor. Tristan continued to stomp down the hallway until he came to an ornate full-length mirror, where he paused, as he often did, to admire his reflection. On this occasion, however, what he saw made him want to rip the mirror off the wall. One side of his face was as devastatingly handsome as it always had been, with deep blue eyes, a perfectly straight nose and a chiselled jaw, but the other side was ruined by the red hand-shape that now took up most of his cheek. He had had no idea that Bella could slap that hard. He'd always thought of her as somewhat delicate and waif-like, like most of the women in the village, so when she'd slapped him (how DARE she slap him) he'd been so shocked he'd dropped her in the mud. 'Serves her right!' Tristan thought, as he examined his cheek.

On second thoughts, maybe it wasn't too bad. A bit of make-up would probably cover it, and he would still be able to do the shoot tomorrow. This happy thought was only temporary though, as Tristan's blackened mood was too strong for any other emotion but rage to consume his thoughts. He somehow resisted the urge to smash the mirror with his fist, but this was most likely because he did not want to make his knuckles bleed un-necessarily. He'd only recently had a hand massage anyway.

He kicked off his boots in the direction of the hall cupboard, not bothering to open the door first. The heavy soles chipped the varnish but he didn't notice as he stomped up the stairs and then stomped down the landing to his bedroom, where he flung open the door and disappeared inside.

His room was just how he had left it, which was good as this is what he had requested. He hated the maid coming in and tidying. She always moved his stuff around so he couldn't find it again. Once he'd even found his beloved Flex magazines in an orderly pile instead of all over his desk the way he liked them to be. That way he'd always have handy reference material. How was he supposed to compare himself to the Mr. Universe contestants if he actually had to go through every magazine? When he had confronted the maid, she'd looked terrified, but it had worked as she had not come near his room since. The collection of dirty plates and glasses by his bed confirmed this neglect, as did the clothes that were strewn all over the carpet.

Tristan went to his stereo and pressed play. Then he turned up the volume to maximum in order to create the most appropriate level of noise to compliment his temper. The music blared out as he went over to his mini-fridge and poured himself a nice cold protein shake, which he drank in one gulp. He then spent a further fifteen minutes examining his cheek in the mirror, prodding and poking his skin from every angle to decide the best way of covering up the slap mark. He frowned; his nostril hairs needed plucking again.

Suddenly there was a loud hammering at the door, followed by a strong bellow.

"TRISTAN! TURN THAT SHIT DOWN! NOW!

More hammering. Sulking, Tristan stomped (as hard as he could without boots on) back to the stereo and jabbed the stop button, then he opened the door to find his father, Patrick, fuming.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, SON? I'M TRYING TO WORK DOWNSTAIRS!

Tristan was in no mood to let his father shout at him today, but he had more sense than to answer him back when he was in as bad a mood as he was at the moment. Tristan's rages were bad, but Patrick's were very nasty. They were not helped by the vast amounts of ale that he drank. As Patrick swayed on the landing now, Tristan was tempted to push him over, but he didn't. Instead he gritted his teeth and spoke through them, his voice coming out strained.

"I've had a bad day, ok?"

"DO YOU EVER HAVE A GOOD DAY? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT KIND OF STRESS I'M UNDER AT THE MOMENT? I DON'T NEED YOUR NOISE BOOMING IN MY EAR!

He paused for a moment, as he noticed the red mark on Tristan's cheek, and it dawned on him what the matter might be. His voice was now more weary than angry.

"Oh god! What did she do this time?"

Patrick was well aware of his son's constant battles with Bella. Personally he couldn't see why Tristan even bothered. The girl was nothing special, just average, especially when compared to some of the great bits of ass that Tristan usually brought home with him. Hell, he'd even sampled a few himself, but Bella? What was the point?

Tristan snorted and pointed to his cheek, obviously feeling that actions spoke louder than words on this occasion. His father tutted a bit too loudly, then snorted with laughter, slapping Tristan firmly on the back of his shoulder blade.

"You let a woman hit you? What are you, some kind of wimp?"

Patrick found the idea so funny that he was now stooped over in the doorway, tears rolling down his face, throaty laughter resounding in Tristan's perfect ears. Tristan's face was twitching in fury, but he knew better than to hit his father. Patrick was nowhere near as big as Tristan but he still packed a strong punch. He'd found this out the hard way when he'd been caught snooping through his father's study. He'd been punched so hard his nose had bled solid for two hours. It had taken numerous hospital appointments to straighten it out again.

Tristan had always had a temperamental relationship with his dad. They could never see eye to eye about anything. They were both stubborn and refused to admit they were wrong. Patrick was very successful in his business which Tristan knew was something to do with real estate and development, but not all the details. His father was strangely private about his work; hence the punishment Tristan had received when he'd been caught in the study. The only other person who'd known the full extent of Patrick's work was Matilda, Tristan's mother, but she had walked out on them ten years previously. Tristan wouldn't admit it, but part of the hatred he felt for his father stemmed back to that moment a decade ago.

He'd been in his bedroom watching television when he'd heard a huge row going on downstairs, and snuck down to the balcony to see what was going on. His parents often argued, but this one sounded serious, and Tristan, being inquisitive as most 11 year old boys were, could not help but eavesdrop on the argument. He hadn't been able to make out all of what was happening, but he had seen frantic shadows on the living-room wall and heard his mother screeching. Odd bits of dialogue drifted up to him, bits like ….'How could you...you've gone too far this time…….what's gonna happen if they find out...what about us...how could you do this...

His mother had been doing most of the talking, with his father saying the odd word or two of protest here and there. This had gone on for quite sometime. Tristan had been dimly aware that Baywatch was starting without him, but he had been unable to stop himself being a witness to the final time he would see his mother. His parents had then come into the hallway, his mother crying and pulling on her coat, his father guzzling down whisky behind her. All of a sudden, his father had thrown the bottle against the wall in reaction to something his mother had said, and with a roar of "You just try, you bitch!", he had drawn back his fist and hit her straight in the face.

Tristan had clung tightly to the railings of the balcony, his eyes wide with horror, as his mother had somehow found the strength to walk out of the door and slam it hard behind her. His father had stayed in the hallway for a while with his hands in his pockets, and then had looked up at Tristan, shrugged his shoulders and murmured "Women!".

Now ten years on, Tristan was trying not to think about that image, that snapshot moment when his mother had gone, but it always seemed to dig itself up in his memory whenever he saw his father (which wasn't that often these days). Patrick was still in hysterics, now slapping his thigh in time to his guffaws. Gradually, the beats and the chuckles became less frequent until finally he stopped and looked Tristan full in the face.

"So what did you do to deserve it? Pinched her ass did ya?"

Another shorter round of laughter.

"I tried to stop her going into the forest."

The laughter stopped abruptly.

"What did you say?"

"She wanted to go find her dad in the forest. I tried to stop her, and she slapped me."

Patrick lowered his head, obviously absorbed in his own thoughts for a moment. After a while, he looked up. If his expression had changed in that short time, there was now no trace of it.

"Good."

"Good?"

"That you didn't do something stupid like go after her. You know I don't like you going near those woods…dangerous, those woods are. Full of miscreants.

A pause.

"When she comes back, you better let her know who's boss. No son of mine lets a woman get the better of him. Understood?"

Tristan nodded.

"Make sure you keep that music down."

Patrick sauntered off down the hall. Tristan waited for a second and then punched the door. Hard. The wood splintered beneath his fist but he hardly noticed the pain as he went to get another protein shake from the fridge. He sat on his king-size bed and sipped the drink, his eyes staring straight ahead, His father was right. Bella had been out of order. How dare she hit him? Him? Tristan Blain. He and his father were probably the most powerful men in town. It would not do to let silly girls like Bella affect him like this. By the time he had finished his drink, and drained all the residue from the bottom of the glass, Tristan had decided that he would make her pay for what she did to him, but his ungifted brain could not figure out how. What could be the best way to assert his dominance over her?

Luckily for Tristan, it wouldn't be long before he found his answer.

Downstairs, Patrick poured himself another beer, and contemplated Tristan's words. His hand shook ever so slightly as he raised the glass to his lips.

* * *

**TrudiRose- **Ok, thats good, was worried I was getting a little cheesy! I make up little sayings like that myself so if they don't make sense, thats why! I thought talking would be more constructive than shouting. I don't think either of them would have a lot of energy to shout anyway! Ok, the plaster/band-aid thing. (..."let's call the whole thing off..." sorry distracted there!) I was actually gonna call it a band-aid originally, but then my British brain made me write plaster. I think in Brit; therefore I write in Brit! But i am trying to avoid language stufflike that. To be perfectly honest, I have noidea where I'm setting this. That's not good is it? Ideally it'd be in a non-descript fairy-tale kind of worldbut purely because of the country I know best, its kind of set in England, but obviously a much nicer version of England! But they have French names...lol, I'm so confusing!

**LumBabsFan-**Lol i understand what you're saying. Thanks for the compliment. As you can see fromthe chapter above, I'm having to meander slightly from the basic plot of the movie occasionally. Hope this isn't too distracting! This wouldbe a story I'd normally get into to, but of course I'm going to say thatcos I'm writing it! Thanks for your continued interest.

**Bellamegs- **Yeah I know. Bastien (btw I'm spelling it with an 'e' now) I just really like the name, not cos its French-like, just because I was going through allsorts of names but this one best suited his character. And, yes there are no servants, which is proving to be slightly annoying, but I can't just bring some in now as much as I'd like to. Magic mice? Hmm...I'll keep that in mind! Lol, I read the chest bit to my dad, and was immediatly accused of writing soft porn or a Mills & Boon novel! Honestly! I was trying to create a sense of him being strong but dangerously so, so shes in awe of him but wary at the same time if that makes sense. And obviously because he's never had a woman stare at his chest, he's gonna be a tad uncomfy.

As for the 'hearing him wince', I was wrongly under the impression that people make noises when they wince. But my mum tells me that they don't, so you are perfectly right to nit-pick. For 'wince', read 'shudder; or something!

**Rosakara**-Thanks! Glad you're liking it!

**Everyone**-Again. merry bit of slight irrelevence here, but just thought I'd share this with you. Feel free to skip this bit! I watched the John Savage/Rebecca De Mornay version of BatB today for the first time in about ten years, and was immediatly struck by the horrendous acting! LOL, the guy who plays the fatheris just incapable of expression, its so funny! And John Savage as the Prince...I actually felt he looked better as a beast! And the kiss at the end, it was so painful, it was like they were being forced to kiss eachother! Heehee! It's such a B movie, but its great fun! Anyway...


	12. Wanderer

Hi everyone! This chapter is short and sweet ( like me!) because I need to plan the next few chapters. We're getting to the bit in the movie where Belle and the Beast suddenly start to like eachother and theres lots of little blissful scenes where they're having a snowball fight and eating porridge together. Awwwwwwwwww! Very sweet, but soooooo not gonna work in this version. So I need to do some thinking. In the meantime, I hope this will suffice for a few days while I get some inspiration.

Disclaimer:- Basic Plot-property of Disney. Words and waffle-property of me.

* * *

Morris walked through the forest as if in a trance. His arms hung loosely by his sides, his eyes stared straight ahead and his legs were heavy and slow. His brain had yet to fully comprehend what had just happened and so he walked as if asleep and in the middle of some strange fuzzy unconsciousness. He hardly felt the leaves that trailed across his face or the sun that lazily warmed his thinning scalp. The pleasant weather could do nothing to thaw the numbness within his spirit as he made his way to the village. 

In the distance, he could see the main street. It was eerily quiet for such a sunny day. He had never really appreciated the sun before now. Its golden glow lit up the road much better than any lamp could and the flowers lined in rows seemed to lean towards it as if yearning for its caress. Its amazing what a few hours locked in a tiny room can do for your perception.

His mind finally allowed him to contemplate the events that had occurred. He had spent the night in a strange house in the woods with nothing but a madman and rats for company. He had been fed bread and water as if he was in some medieval dungeon and at times during the night he had sworn his captor had been right outside the door listening. It was enough to send shivers down the hardest spine, and now he had left his daughter, his child, to the same fate. Was she in that same room now? Was she in fear for her life as he had been?

Morris wanted to weep. He also wanted to run to the phone box on the corner and send swarms of policeman back the way he had come, but he loved Bella more than he wanted to see that man caught. But what could he do? Could he just go back to the house he had shared with only Bella for the last five years and carry on as normal? Popcorn and movies for one?

Now he was emerging from the wilderness, beads of sweat forming on his brow as if he was returning from a month long trek through a South American rainforest. His eyes were suddenly stung by a streaming ray of sunlight. Maybe it wasn't as welcoming as he'd thought. He put his hand on his forehead to shield his eyes in welcome shadow and continued forward into the village. Now he was closer he could see more people in the streets. Children were laughing and playing games, their parents smiling to each other whilst watching. A dog was stretched out on its back in the middle of the road as if getting a suntan. An ice-cream van was tinkling somewhere out of sight…

He longed to join in the merriment but he had long since learned that his participation in everyday street life was often met with staring and whispered giggles. Imagine what would happen if he stumbled into the middle of the scene and started blurting out that his daughter was being held captive by a big hairy man in the middle of the forest. The rumours, the stereotypes that he and Bella had unwittingly adopted, would all be proven to the villagers. They would nod knowingly at each other, and start crossing the street when he approached. "That poor man," they'd whisper.

Morris scowled and ignored the mocking happiness of everyone else. He got to his road, his gate, his doorstep. Only then did he give in. Only then did he collapse.

Bella couldn't sleep. She had lost track of time but she guessed it was somewhere around 8pm. Far too early for bedtime, but she couldn't stand another minute in the emptiness of downstairs. She couldn't make conversation with Bastian.

Bastian.

Bella tested the name on her lips, one syllable at a time. Bas. Ti. An. It tasted strange, unfamiliar, and maybe even exotic. It was probably short for Sebastian. She couldn't decide whether Bastian or Sebastian suited him better. She giggled uncomfortably. How could she know whether it suited him or not? Whoever this Bastian was, he was hiding behind something. She could see it in his eyes which had so often contradicted the rest of his face throughout that evening. His voice had been breathy, weary, constricted, as if he had rehearsed every word carefully in his head before he allowed them to be spoken, and yet he had still stuttered, as if he was unsure what conversation was. And this was likely, she reminded herself, if he was truly alone-unless he talked to himself.

What was he thinking? What was he feeling? Bella prided herself on being able to read people, but he was a closed book. He had given away nothing, except in that brief hardly audible sentence. "Everyone leaves me." What a strange thing to say, yet it was so poignant. It had so much meaning; every letter in it had a story, yet it was coded and cryptic. It explained why he was alone but at the same time formed so many other questions.

Bella turned her head on the pillow, breathing in the scent. It was of a faint fragrance but one she did not know. Perhaps, even stranger, it was clean. Why was it clean if no-one had slept in it? Did he clean for no-one?

So many questions and so few answers. Her head was staring to hurt. Most of all, she was plagued by her own indecision. She had no idea what she would do next or what would happen once she opened her eyes to the morning light. Half of her was screaming every second for her to go, to run back through the forest into her nice, boring, safe village where she did not have to expect much, she had only to be content with her day-to-day pleasant provincial life. If she ran back now, she could watch the DVD she hadn't started the day before yesterday, open a fresh packet of popcorn and watch her beloved _Edward Scissorhands_. She could even, and this was even more tempting, go to Tristan's house and slap him on the other cheek so he could be symmetrical. She sniggered at the thought. He had deserved it, the coward. Wake up, go into town, run into Tristan, argue with him, go back home, watch TV with her feet up. It was bliss, but at the same time it was predictable. This was what the other half of her mind was telling her. She was in a sprawling mansion, a strange place, almost another world, with an even stranger man-beast for company, and she knew nothing. She didn't know what was behind all the doors that filled the corridors. There could be a garden, a library, a swimming pool, a bar, or none of those things. There were mysteries waiting to be solved, and he was perhaps the biggest mystery of then all. It was dangerously exciting, but that was the problem. It was dangerous. Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat must have had a great time before it did.

Bella sighed, and it echoed all around the darkness. She wondered what her father was doing now. He was probably at home having a nap. She wondered whether he was going to do something about her situation; it was logical after all, but somehow she knew that he wouldn't, and now she didn't know if she actually wanted him to.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Strange. She hadn't noticed a clock in the room, but yet there it was. She squinted at it. 8.07. She was too hot. She climbed out of the bed, and went to the window, allowing cool air to rush into her face as soon as she opened the latch. Outside, the stars twinkled in their constellations. Bella had learnt some astronomy and so she knew that directly in front of her gaze was Orion and his belt. In some ways, the shape was just a random collection of stars in the night sky, but in other ways it was a great hunter, eternally roaming in the heavens with his two faithful dogs by his side. She found it fascinating, and secretly longed for the latter possibility. Her bookshelves at home were full of volumes of ancient mythology, legends, and fairy-tales. Myths were her favourite because she imagined they were based on some truth a long time ago that had been changed, altered, romanticised, but still had to have an origin. Stories that had been passed down from generation to generation until their immortal realisation in print and illustration.

She could stare at the night sky forever, Thunderstorms were the best. She remembered as a child being utterly frightened of the rumbles and flashes but at the same time being utterly compelled. She would drag either of her parents out of bed and force them to sit with her and witness the terrifying glory of nature from her bedroom window. There were no storms now, just a calm cloud-free never-ending sky. For a while, she just stood at the window, allowing her mind to be filled with distractions; stories, memories, songs. It is sometimes surprising how a mind can wander if it is allowed to, making endless connections between the past, present and future, filling a persons head with the mysteries of life. So it may not be that surprising to learn that Bella was not the only person star-gazing that night. Above her, and on the other side of the house, Bastian was also immersed in the wonder of the night, rather than thinking of the consequences of the rising sun. He could not see Orion, but instead the stars re-formed themselves especially for him, first into the vague outlines of his parents, and then into the shape of Bella as she was in the picture he'd drawn of her.

Bel. La.

* * *

**LumBabsFan**- I'm so glad you're a new you! I know that chapter wandered slightly from the plot, but it needed to cos its a semi-sub-plot. Yes, thats right. There's a sub-plot going on! Wooooooooooooooo! I'll make it interesting,I promise!

**TrudiRose-**I wouldn't bow down at my feet if I were you, you'd probably choke! LOL, j/k!I belive therecould be so much more to the Gastoncharacter. Don't get me wrong, I love Gaston in the movie, buthe could be so much more than just the bad-guy, and seeing as I'm trying to make this more realistic, hesgetting a bit more attention paid to him. And, yeah I hate Patrick too, but he has to exist unfortunatly (just like your Auguste!) Btw, I am loving yourlatest story so far, and I also lovedA Man of Stature for similar reasons. You giveGaston so much more depth. My version, Tristan, probably won't be as fleshed out as yours, (cos I am partly liking making him a bit of an idiot) but anyway, here's toboth of them. (raises a big Gaston-style tankard filled with ale)

Oh, and the mysterious secret? Mwahahahahahahahahaha! If I can write it well, its gonna be an interesting little sub-plot type thing. Happy wondering!

**beautygirl-**Heehee!My mum was reading my reviews and I had to explain to her what 'kudos' meant in yours. Bless her! Anyway, I promise, hand on heart, I won't put Bellain un-necessary danger. Remember, Tristan is a prize chump, more talk than action...or is he? (There has to be some sort ofproblem cos otherwise the story would be all happy and merry and lovely and...er...boring! Lol! As much as I would love to have Bella and Bastian skipping off into the sunset together...

**Rosakara**- Thank-you!Here's the update, even if it was a bit of a long time coming. Please forgive me!

**bellamegs- **Lol, i didn't realise how soap opera-y that name was! I went to a surname website and just kind of picked one at random. Tristan Blain. The Blains. At Home with the Blains. Heehee!

A BIG HAPPY EASTER TO EVERYONE!


	13. Surprise

Hi everyone! I'm back! Sorry for the delay. Just had a weekend away with my boyfriend for my birthday : ) I've also been coming up with ideas for the next part of the story so hopefully the writing road will be pretty smooth from here on in…for a while at least.

Disclaimer:- Basic plot-property of Walt Disney. Words and waffle-property of me.

* * *

_Bella was lying in a beautiful rose-garden. Her lungs were filled with the sweet scent of the flowers that surrounded her on all sides. She breathed in contently, and closed her eyes, feeling the sun dance across her eyelids. Someone was beside her, but she could not see who it was. She only knew she belonged here in this garden with this unseen figure. Bang! Bang! Two gunshots interrupted her perfection. The figure beside her was running, and she needed to follow. "Wait!" she cried, and then she was running too, running into a dark room and seeing the blood on the floor._

Bella awoke from her dream to the sounds of birds outside the window. She had forgotten to close it before she had fallen asleep and now the normally melodious birdsong was noisily resounding in her sluggish brain. She had had an uneasy and restless night and had woken several times shivering from something over than cold. As sunlight streamed into her bleary eyes, she was beyond tempting to bury herself in the duvet, in her own little world, snug and undemanding. However, she knew that she should not make herself too comfortable as she had made her decision, having spent several hours mentally weighing up the pros and cons of staying and going. It was this that had filled her unconscious thoughts and prevented her from getting the peaceful night's sleep she desperately craved.

Although every ounce of the adventurer and romanticist in her heart was screaming at her to stay, the rationality of her senses told her that she simply could not, should not, stay in a derelict old house with a potentially dangerous man she hardly knew. She should go. After all, she could always visit if she felt the need. This unconvincing afterthought was of little consolation, but still represented the fine line between Bella's two minds. It was the only thing that allowed her to get up and walk soundlessly out of the room as if she had hypnotised herself to block out everything but the route to the front door.

She paused at the top of the stairs and found herself glancing down the corridor , wondering what Bastian was doing at this moment, unaware he was about to be left alone once more. Bella sighed. She knew that seeing him now would throw her head into turmoil again. One look at his enigmatic eyes and she would be lost. With a heart that felt like lead, Bella descended the staircase wrapping her arms around herself tightly, her head lowered. She made herself think of the little front garden that she and her father had lovingly tended through all seasons. It was full of flowers; spots of colour dabbled among the lush green lawn, and although it was that uncertain gap between winter and spring, she imagined the garden was alive, and in bloom, and something she could look forward to when she left this fantasy world behind her. It raised her spirits just a little.

And now the doorknob was in front of her. It was old-fashioned and elegantly carved with shapes and swirls in between the black-flecked gold. And Bella found herself inexplicably fascinated with it; this thing that marked the boundary between two worlds. Once she placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it, she would have reached the point of no return. She would have left him.

"_Everyone leaves me."_

That uneasy feeling of being watched once again froze Bella from the inside out and she turned and scanned the vast entrance hall again. She sighed heavily when nothing materialised out of the darkness.

"I'll never get used to this place" she heard herself muttering under her breath. She frowned. That sentence rather implied that she was staying and she wasn't. She was going. Her hand was on the doorknob and turning it, first excruciatingly slowly and then sharply and more determined. . There was a click and Bella pulled the door towards her. She shifted her gaze from the doorknob to the outside…and jumped out of her skin.

The figure staring back at her did exactly the same but slightly more controlled. Both were equally shocked and so they just looked at each other for a moment without blinking, like goldfish in a bowl.

And then both spoke at once, and the result was discordant and slightly unintelligible.

"Who are you?" said Bella.

"What are you doing here?" said the elderly lady at the door.

"I…I…" Bella found herself stammering. She was in shock at finding another human being and this stopped her from being able to form a coherent sentence. The lady in front of her noticed her trembling lip and flushed cheeks, and chuckled softly to herself. She had a kindly face. The tell-tale signs of her age were hardly recognisable beneath her bright eyes and jolly cheeks. She wore a sensible blouse and pleated skirt teamed with a long beige-coloured Mac and deep purple boots, and her silvery hair was pinned back with a ribbon that did not go with any of her clothes, but instead seemed to match her face. She had a well-used carrier bag in her right hand and a small holdall in her left, and she was still chuckling as Bella was taking in the sight of her.

"Well…" said the old lady…"are you going to let me in? It's colder than it looks out here!"

Bella nodded and stepped back to unblock the entrance. She found her voice.

"I…I thought there was no-one else", she said to the back of the old lady's head. The old lady turned and looked Bella up and down.

"So did I, child. So did I, but looks like we're both wrong."

She paused.

"My goodness, look at you! You're a mess.

She tutted as Bella realised that this was actually true. She hadn't given a thought to her appearance because she didn't know that she was going to meet anybody else. She found herself flushing red again and tucking her hair behind her ears.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Ten minutes later, Bella and the old lady (who had introduced herself as Audrey Potter) were sat at the kitchen table with freshly made cups of tea. Bella had just finished explaining her reasons for being in the house, carefully editing some of the moments involving Bastian. Audrey was listening intently and could tell that she was holding some things back. She didn't query it though. She was starting to like this young girl now that she had satisfied herself that she was not a trespasser, and didn't want to unnecessarily intimidate her. Heavens! The girl looked exhausted and anxiety was written all over every inch of her otherwise pretty face. She noticed that when she spoke about the young master, her eyes seemed to flash ever so slightly and her hands tightened around the mug of tea.

"…and well, I was just about to leave when I opened the door…Oh, and I'm sorry for being rude. I didn't expect to see anybody else."

Audrey chuckled again.

"That's perfectly alright, child. You startled me a bit too. I wasn't expecting to see a nice young lady such as yourself in a place like this. Of course, I try to pop in and keep the place tidy from time to time but it's in no kind of state for visitors at the moment."

A light bulb clicked on in Bella's mind.

"Ah! That explains a lot. You clean for him?"

"Well, I like to help out here and there, clean a bit, buy food. I promised his parents I'd look after him, you see."

Bella cleared her throat and tried to think of a good way to phrase what she thought might be a delicate question.

"What happened…I mean…where are his parents?"

"Dead."

"Dead?"

"Murdered."

Bella gasped, and in doing do almost knocked over her tea. She took a tissue out of her pocket and frantically dabbed at the few drops of the liquid that had splashed onto the table, taking her time as she was unsure what to say next, but she didn't need to worry.

"Ten years ago" said Audrey suddenly. "Somebody broke into the house and killed them. Young Sebastian found them. I don't know much else than that."

She sipped her tea as Bella listened, wide-eyed on the opposite side of the table. A wave of crushing sympathy flooded through her and a thousand statements resounded in her head.

_Oh my god!...Poor Bastian…It must've been so awful._

And then images of her mother came to her, as she remembered her own pain. Watching as she lay dying. The emptiness, the gaping hole within her, when she had finally succumbed to the disease that had eaten away at her as long as Bella could remember. Tears started to form in the corners of Bella's eyes but she did not let them fall. Murdered. That was so much worse. She had no right to cry for her mother now.

"Before…it…happened, I promised them that should anything happen to them, I would look after him the best I could. And that's what I've been doing ever since. I hardly ever see him though. Very solitary, he is."

"I've noticed."

"Kind heart though. I remember when he was little-he was so happy, and so smart. I always used to say he'd be Prime Minister one day."

She chuckled contently, lost in good memories.

"But that was then, before…everything. I always used to hope that one day he'd find some companionship, a kindred spirit maybe. After all, I can't take care of him forever."

Bella squirmed slightly in her chair at what the old lady was implying. True, she was starting to reconsider leaving, but now Audrey seemed to be developing a whole life for them in her head, despite them having said hardly anything to each other. She coughed, breaking the wistful spell.

"I…I was just about to leave actually."

Audrey seemed to consider this for a while.

"That's perfectly understandable, child." She chuckled. "Ignore me! I'm just an overly sentimental old woman. That boy is, or was, like a grandson to me. Naturally, I want the best for him. It can't be easy for him on his own. Such a pity. Anyway…"

She rose, picked up the tea cups and walked to the sink.

"…it's been nice to meet you…

She paused as if she had temporarily forgotten Bella's name

…Bella."

She smiled and walked out of the door, leaving Bella alone once more in the kitchen.

* * *

Ta-da! How does everyone like my little reference to a certain teapot? I'm actually not entirely happy with this chapter. Can't really explain why, but I can always go back and change it later.

As usual, a few shout-outs to my wonderful reviewers…

**TrudiRose- **Yep! This Morris is much more sensible. I always thought he was a bit naïve in the movie. Bless 'im! I'm hoping my version of the 'getting to know eachother' scenes is gonna be just as magical, if slightly more realistic. Not quite there yet though. Need to build-up to it. I mean, I can't picture these two suddenly having pleasant little breakfasts together. (I wish it was that easy!) Sorry this update was later than usual but I have reasons, honest! Thanks a lot for your continued encouragement and support. It means a lot to me to get such helpful feedback from a talented writer such as yourself.

**LumBabsFan**- I'm glad you liked that chapter. It was just a bit of happy fluff really, apart from the Morris bit of course. I'm sure they'll be more little contemplation scenes like this cos I like writing them, but at the moment I've got some convincing 'we-like-eachother-really chapters to do!

**Bellamegs-** Thanks! I like adding little bits of humour here and there cos otherwise it'll be all doom and gloom, and that's just not me! Hmm…I didn't think about the predicatabiltiy thing in the musical that much, but it is a bit like that the 'Home' song. I loved the testing names bit too. I'm soooooooo gonna enjoy writing the romance bits (cos I'm a hopeless romantic) but I don't get to do it just yet, not fair! 'cries'

Erm….Hazaah to you too…(if only I knew what that meant lol)

**Rosakara and gigiglen- **Thanks a lot, you're great!

And a big general virtual hug for everyone! Hurray!


	14. Loss

Yay, and she finally updates. Please feel free to hurl abuse at me cos I probably deserve it. I won't bore you with details!

Disclaimer:- Basic plot-Disney. Words and waffle-me.

* * *

It had been mere seconds since Audrey Potter had left the kitchen in pursuit of some menial cleaning task, but to Bella's troubed mind, it felt like forever. Once again she had a feeling of detachment from her situation, like she was watching herself on a television screen or reading everything she did through the pages of some long-forgotten historical romance. If it wasn't for the heat from the still-warm cup of tea that infused her fingers, she would have sworn she was hallucinating or dreaming, snug and warm in her humble bedroom back home. Her house was less than a mile from where she was now sitting but it felt like an immeasurable distance away. Surely it was too far for her to go back to now…

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a vacuum cleaner in the room above her. She wondered whether Audrey would clean the rest of the rooms now that the 'young master', as she called him, had a guest.

Bella sighed, deliberately and as loud as she could. To her surprise, her sigh seemed to take on a form all of its own; a misty cloud billowing from her pursed lips. Maybe it was even a little piece of her soul that had been looking for a way to escape and had seized this opportunity to expel itself from her mouth. Either that or it was cold in here. Bella shivered. The house seemed to have its own sub-zero temperature range. Again, she found herself cursing the apparant lack of central heating. At this rate, she thought she would happily stick her head in the oven like a writer she'd heard of but couldn't remember.

She groaned inwardly at the realisation that her mind was wandering to an increasingly surreal extent. Anything rather than think rationally. The noise of the vacuum cleaner grew even louder abover her head, sounding uncannily like a confused swarm of bees.

'_Right! That's it!' _thought Bella. _'I'm going to find him.'_

She got up from the stool triumphantly and walked to the door, the slightest hint of a smile on her lips.

…………………………………………………………………………………

It was forty minutes later and she still hadn't found him, and it was just starting to annoy her. She'd been from one dusty room to another and another, and walked down many pointlessly long corridors. She'd even accidentally stumbled in on a rather exasperated Audrey Potter scrubbing a toilet, and asked her. The old lady had simply shrugged and shook her head, smiling more with every movement. Now Bella was only a few doors away from giving up. She tutted to herself.

'_Typical! When you don't want him, he's there, and when you do, you can't bloody find him!'_

Frustrated, she found a convenient, though grimy, window and leant against it, desperate for some sunlight after spending so long creeping down corridors in the dark. She allowed her bleary eyes to gradually focus on the view from the window. The sky was a turbulant blue with little wisps of cloud strewn all over it. The sun was nowhere to be seen, probably hiding somewhere just out of her sight. There was a tall oak tree to the left of the picture, majestic and regal. It had probably been there for centuries, seen countless people born, age and die, or maybe it had been alone for most of that time, standing guard over the other trees, proud and striking.

Her eyes followed the shape of the tree, down through its green leaves and twisty branches, down over its gnarled and weather-worn trunk. And sitting beneath the tree, like Newton waiting for the apple, was Bastian.

Bella's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise. She started to turn to run down the stairs, the goal of her mission in sight, but something stopped her. Her eyes sparkled mischeviously as she decided she would simply stand there a while and watch him. She wondered if he liked being watched.

First, her eyes settled on the top of his head, which was bowed slightly as if something on the ground demanded his attention. His hair was messy (did she expect anything else?) and loose bits that had escaped from his pony-tail danced around his face, caught in an invisible breeze. His hair was an interesting colour, brown but not brown, maybe even black from some angles. _No, not dark enough for black, but possibly a very deep brown_, mused Bella.

The object of her gaze shifted a little on the bench on which he was sitting, and now Bella could see the top part of his face. The area around his left eye still looked swollen, and was that another cut on his forehead that she'd missed? So much for her first aid skills.

He was holding something in his hand. A flower of some kind. A rose?

Intrigued, Bella left her position at the window and walked to the stairs, roses on her mind.

………………………………………………………………………………

The wind touched Bastian's cheek, making him shiver slightly. It was colder out here than in the house, although that surprised him. He'd never noticed the cold before but today it had struck him as he had stood outside the kitchen door, listening to the voices within. He had stood there for ages it seemed, trying to summon up the courage to go in. If it had been just one voice, cheery and chuckling occasionally, he would have walked straight in and made himself breakfast. But there had been two voices, and one of them had been hers.

Hers.

That girl, woman, who had suddenly appeared in his life just when he'd almost given up hope of seeing another human being. Just when he'd resigned himself to interaction by mere pictures, flickers on the television screen, paint on canvas, words in books; she had come, like she'd stepped right out of his drawing, and filled his house with voices, hs sink with dishes, his heart with hope.

Hope.

Hope that he was worth something. Hope that he meant something to somebody, even if it was just a casual acquaintance, it still meant somebody else knew his name, would recognise him from a photograph.

Somebody other than Mrs. Potter.

Not that he didn't adore Mrs. Potter in a strange, distant way. She had done so much for him, had wiped away his tears, had helped him say goodbye, had offered to take him in and love him like her own son. He had said no. He had refused, consumed by grief and a longing to stay in his parents home. His home. For years he had wandered around the house aimlessly, barely speaking to her, not out of malice, but out of fear. Now he was older, and had gotten used to the loneliness. So used to it that he didn't know what to do when it was disrupted.

And now it had been disrupted.

He wondered whether she'd left yet, like he hadsuggested she do. He cursed himself. How could he? Push her away when she'd barely come in. Yes, she was probably long gone.

He stroked the rose in his hand gently and looked at the slab in front of him. Scrawled in childish permanent marker were the words;

Thomas and Joanna. Mother and Father.

And on top of it were several roses in various states of decay.

Not so long ago, he had wanted to join them. Had thought about it. Had dreamed of it even. But now, sitting here with the vision of her sweet face etched permantly in his mind, he no longer wanted to.

And he had let her go.

He laid the rose gently onto the slab, feeling its cold stone beneath his fingertips, and then sat back on the bench with his head in his hands, almost willing the tears to flow, but they didn't.

They didn't because he had heard footsteps on the ground by his side.

* * *

And stop. D'ya know I actually felt like crying when I finished that? But that's probably because I am the world's biggest wuss. We're talking 'flood-out-the-cinema-during-Titanic' kind of wussiness here.

Anyway……

**TrudiRose- **I know, I know, inconsistency alert! I think I've kind of fixed the whole Audrey taking him in thing in this chapter, but let me know if it doesn't flow right, and I'll go back and change a few things. Thanks for your continued helpful suggestions!

**Bellamegs**- Hazaaah! (Did I pull it off?) You know I've never been to one of those Renaissance fair thingies. Oh, I tell a lie. I went to one in Canada and it was atrocious. They couldn't decide what accent they were doing. As an English person, I found it laughable! Lol, I wouldn't call you a psycho. A little crazy maybe…

I don't know if she's falling in love yet cos she doesn't know him, shes more…..intigued and mysteriously drawn to him, like a moth to a flame, or me to the chocolate counter in the supermarket.

And yes, I am mean, but you can't have a good story without a few bad things happening!

**LumBabsFan-** Let's see……….am I going to do a chapter centred around Bastian? 'coughs and points upwards'. Ok so its not a full chapter, but they'll be plenty of opportunities to bask in his glory later on. You'll just have to wait and see.

**Beautygirl**- Yeah I'd thought I'd give her the option cos I'm nice like that. Currently don't have any plans to incorporate Lumiere and Cogsworth counterparts yet, but seeing as I seem to be making this story up as I go along, they might crop up later. Who knows?

**Stephanie- **Hey you stole my name! Thanks for reviwing. Always nice to meet new people :) Thanks for the compliments!

**Asp and Rosakara- **Thanks so much for your continued support!


	15. Decision

So I was in my university library all ready to do some work, but then I found I'd forgotten all my notes. Darn it! Seeing as it took me so long to find a computer that was free, I thought I'd stay here and instead post up my latest chapter, even though it's not quite finished. But its finished now, don't worry its not going to stop abruptly! The song below is from the Cannon version of Beauty and the Beast starring Rebecca De Mornay and John Savage from 1987. I watched it the other day and thought it fitted quite well, plus it's quite a sweet little song so I thought I'd share it with you.

Disclaimer:- Basic plot-belongs to Disney. The song-belongs to whoever wrote it! And generic words and waffle belong to me. Et voila!

* * *

_If you see with your heart_

_Close your eyes, look inside, then you'll know._

_Every secret inside_

_Will shine through just for you, it will show._

_The sun is glowing in the cloud._

_A face is smiling in the lonely cloud._

_If you see with your heart_

_Every dream waiting to come true._

_Will be free once its found by you._

_If you see with your heart_

_Look within, wish and then you will see_

_What is hiding inside_

_Maybe shy, give it time to be free._

_The butterfly is trapped inside_

_Once it is free, it has no need to hide._

_If you see with your heart_

_Every dream waiting to come true_

_Will be free once its found by you_

_If you see with your heart_

_Close your eyes and then you will see_

_What is hiding inside of me._

_(©_ Warner Brothers, 1987.)

Bella shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, and wished she'd thought to bring a coat out with her. Then it occurred to her that she didn't have a coat. She didn't have anything at the house except the clothes she had been wearing for the past few days. A wave of weary disgust swept over her, but it vanished as quickly as it came when she saw Bastian. He was sat on the bench she had seen from the window with his head bowed and his hands covering his face.

Her forward most foot touched gravel and he jumped as if someone had shot him. He removed his hands shakily from his face but kept his eyes down as if he dare not look at her. He spoke to the ground at his feet, his voice cracking slightly.

"I thought you had gone"

Bella said nothing, but walked to the bench and sat beside him. The cold stone beneath her made her shudder, but she ignored it and turned to Bastian. His face was deathly pale making his injuries all the more prominent. He looked awful, and he still did not look at her. Bella found herself wanting to condemn his rudeness but stopped. She would have to learn to be patient.

"I…er…never thanked you."

"For what?" was his immediate response.

"For saving my life…before…in the…er…forest."

She gestured behind her vaguely as she said this, and when she turned back, he had lifted his head, distracted from his fascination with the floor by a statement he found surprising. She was thanking him? Thanking him! After what he'd done. If he hadn't scared her half to death with his temper in the attic, she wouldn't have run into trouble in the first place. He had gone after her because he had to; what he had done was the only thing he could do. She owed him nothing, but he had manners drummed into him as a child.

"You're welcome."

There was silence for a moment. An icy breeze swept past them, lifting leaves dancing into the air. Bastian found his voice again.

"Thank _you _for…er…not leaving me in the forest. You didn't have to, you know."

"I know."

Silence.

"I didn't do a very good job of patching you up."

"Huh?"

She pointed to the heavy reddish-brown line on his forehead.

"Oh…I…er… did that myself. Walked into a door."

He had said it so deadpan that a spasm of giggles rose inexplicably from Bella's diaphragm and erupted through her mouth. Her eyes widened in half-horror half-laughter as she tired in vain to cover the unflattering noises coming from her throat. To her immense relief, he was grinning too, and it was a genuine grin-she could see it in his eyes.

"I…I…I'm sorry" gasped Bella in between chuckles.

"It's okay. I'm ridiculously clumsy. You should laugh."

"I guess I have a juvenile sense of humour" she smiled, and he noticed how her eyes smiled too. He wanted to continue hearing her laughter; it was like music to his ears. He remembered a joke from his childhood.

"What goes 'ooooooo oooooooo'?"

Bella's eyebrows raised, but she realised what he was doing.

"I don't know."

"A cow with no lips."

Bella slowed the sweet sensation of laughter to overwhelm her, without restriction this time. He joined in and soon they were laughing in harmony, revelling in the sounds of each others happiness.

But the laughter subsided all too quickly. It reduced to splutters and spurts and then it was gone, leaving Bella and Bastian once again to deal with awkwardness. He, unsure of what to do, resorted back to staring at his feet. She asked him a few inane questions, the first things that came to her head, but any confidence he had gained had already been lost, and she was rewarded to monosyllabic words.

"This is a nice garden."

"…"

"Do you take care of it?"

"Sometimes."

"That rose bush is beautiful."

"Yeah."

"I hope the sun comes out soon."

He nodded.

Bella sighed and rolled her eyes in despair. This was going to be hard work. Once again, she found herself questioning what on earth she was doing here, when she could be at home. She would be alone most of the time, but then at least she would not have to attempt to make painful conversation. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" he asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"A bit. It's okay."

"Here."

He stood up and unbuttoned his jacket. Bella raised her hand in protest.

" Oh no. I'm fine, really. You don't have to…"

"Yes I do."

He took it off, revealing he was wearing another faded polo shirt underneath, and held it out to her. Begrudgingly, but secretly glad, Bella accepted the jacket with thanks and put it on. The inside was lined with fleece and instantly warmed Bella's heart. It was far too big for her, of course, but yet it filled her with a strange sense of security. She was surprised to find it smelt of roses.

Bastian felt the chill of the air start to play upon his skin but he chose not to let it affect him. The coat had been his fathers and he used to wear it when he went on his many mysterious excursions in the wintertime. The coat was one of many of his parents possessions that he had kept as a means of feeling closer to them, but was also one of the few he actually used; the rest being scattered around the house unmoved for over ten years. Now, watching the colour slowly return to Bella's cheeks, he felt a small sense of inner peace for the first time in so long.

Bella noticed him staring, obviously lost in thought, which was part of the reason why her cheeks had become red. His faraway gaze seemed to extend beyond her body wrapped in the coat and through into another time and place. Even when his eyes lacked proper focus, they were dangerously beautiful. She now knew she wanted to stay. She sensed something in him; a life, a passion that had lain dormant for years, and was now almost on the verge of breaking free. He was enigmatic, mysterious, confusing and utterly compelling all at the same time. She wanted to help him and understand him. He was certainly more interesting than most of the people she knew back home…but the question was, did he want to be understood? Bella knew her indecision about staying would be resolved in his answer to her next question.

"Bastian…?"she started, suddenly aware that this was the first time she had called him by name.

He broke free of his distraction.

"Yes, Bella?"

"Do you want me to stay…here…with you?"

Bastian didn't answer for a moment. He simply stared straight into her eyes, which made her forget her attempts to appear composed and dignified, and she started to waffle.

"Because…I…want to…if you want me to that is…if you don't mind…I mean I don't have to…I can leave…its up to you, I mean, your house and everything…"

She was now wishing more than anything for a hole to open up in the ground and swallow her up, but he spared her further discomfort.

"Yes. I would like that." He said, hardly batting an eyelid.

_Now that's how I should have done it, _thought Bella.

* * *

And woohoo! There ya go! I am trying my bestest not to go into cheesy kind of stuff, as much as I would dearly love to, so warn me if it starts to get a bit like that. I'm saving that all for later mwa ha ha ha ha ha! Cos the ridiculously hopeless romantic in me wants them to grab a white stallion from somewhere and gallop off into the sunset right now, but alas, that cannot be. Love is not so straight-forward, they should take their time a bit and maybe do a bit of suffering along the way. Right now, FYI, I'm thinking he like 'totally digs her' and everything already cos its not as if he has girls falling at his feet, but at the same time he doesn't really know what love is, and she's gonna be a bit more cautious cos she's a sensible girl, is our Bella. (Yeah right, I hear you cry, she's in a spooky house in the woods with some weirdo, that's sensible. And to you I say…so?) Sorry I'm in a strange mood clearly as I am talking complete and utter cow excretion. And there goes my façade of being this ultra-intelligent and cool person lol. Oh well!

**LumBabsFan- **Thank you so much. You say such kind things. And yes, I am kind of winging it, I have a very rough plan, but top be honest I'm not entirely sure how this will all pan out, and I'm aware at the moment theres a lot of talk and not much action, but I'm not ready for action yet! Lol! And the Lumiere thing? If the spirit moves me, he shall make an appearance especially for you, but I can't just have random servants popping up out of the blue. He might have another guise…we shall see.

**Bellamegs**- lol I'm glad I made you laugh. I do tend to say the most random things sometimes and I worry how people will react. I'd just like to point out that I was not crying at Leonardo's death, in Titanic heck no! The thing that got me going was the bit right at the end where she dies and meets everyone back on the boat. I was bawling like a baby! But in my defence I was 12 and had probably had too much sugar or something. And yeah the Renfest in Canada was odd. One of the stallholders had on a waistcoat and trousers ( sorry, pants) and that would have been fine except his Calvin Klein's were also on display. Hmmm….not very medieval, methinks.

Thanks for the indepth review lol I'm glad you think its perfect, that is such a huge compliment :)

**TrudiRose- **Well if youre willing to suspend your disbelief for now, I'm willing to suspend my devotion to realism just a little bit. You know its now going to really bug me and I'll end up fixing it anyway eventually, but for now its staying as it is! I really hope you like this chapter too

**Rosakara**- The work is kept us as promised. Thanks for always reviewing

**hIgHoNsUgAr!- **Really? You don't say! The randomness of your review was spectacular lol, and funny you should mention Rose Daughter cos I've ordered it and am patiently waiting for it to arrive.


	16. Past

Next chapter is here. Woohoo! Now, this one may seem a little boring but I am craftily sowing little seeds for what will blossom later on. Hey, that's quite poetic. A few previews; for all you Tristan/Gaston fans (such as TrudiRose!) he will reappear in a few chapters time (obviously!), for all you Bastian fans, the next chapter is prob gonna be at least partly from his POV, and for all you lovers of fluffiness, there's going to be fluff a-plenty soon cos I am sick of doom and gloom in this story! Onwards…

Disclaimer:- Basic plot-property of Disney. Words and waffle- property of me!

* * *

Bella felt the warm water engulf her body and gasped in delight. It felt so good; almost like life itself was wetting her hair and soaking into her arms and legs. Bastian had rummaged around in the gloomiest basement she had ever seen and located the boiler. Now the house was aglow with central heating and Bella was sure she had never felt warmer.

When she had asked him if she could finally have a hot bath, he'd looked puzzled. Apparently, he'd never felt the need for any other kind of bath or shower than cold ones. Nonetheless, he'd nodded and promised to find something for her to wear once she was clean. As soon as Bella had felt the cold lift, she'd practically sprinted upstairs into the bathroom and this is where she'd been for the last three-quarters of an hour, lost in a sea of bubbles.

Thanks to Audrey Potter's efforts, the bathroom was gleaming; every surface shone like the sun. It was almost as if she was a guest in some expensive hotel. The only things missing were a Jacuzzi and monogrammed towels.

In sparkling sanitary heaven, Bella reflected on the events that day. After the somewhat awkward conversation that morning, Bastian had offered to show her round the house seeing as they'd established that she would be staying for a while, and so this is what they had done. They'd started downstairs in the east wing where he had shown her lots of little rooms that had been very similar but with slightly different names; the drawing room, the parlour, the living room. Most of them were filled with cluttered-up furniture. Bastian had commented that a lot of the rooms had never been used as far as he was aware, other than for storage. The house had perhaps been a bit too large for a family of three and a few servants. These first rooms were rushed through, having nothing of interest to keep them long. But to Bella, each doorway they stepped through was a path to another piece of the puzzle that was Bastian, no matter how apparently mundane.

It was when they had crossed the foyer that he suddenly seemed to come to life, as if possessed by an earlier version of himself. This area was where his family had made their home, and in each room, he would animatedly describe how the room had looked when people had been there. Occasionally, he would recite tender anecdotes about a Christmas party when he was very little or a family game of cards when they would sit around the coffee table and bet with the contents of the copper jar. As he reminisced, the scenes seemed to play before him as if they were home movies etched onto his pupils for eternity. Bella noticed the sadness in his laughter, the tears unshed on his eyes, and her heart wrenched with pity for him. The whole experience was achingly familiar to her as she recalled how empty her house had been after her mothers untimely demise, and how the rooms had seemed to echo with the painful sound of silence and words unspoken. Her mother's illness and death had been expected though. She couldn't even begin to imagine how it would have felt to have had your parents suddenly ripped away from you as Bastian's were; the pain, the agony of never knowing, the endless questions. Bella fought to stop a single tear from spoiling her cheek.

Before long, they arrived at what appeared to be the limits of the westernmost part of the house, and Bella turned to go back to the hallway, but he stopped her.

"Wait! There's more."

She came back, her eyebrows raised in bewilderment for all she could see was a dead end.

"My father's private rooms. I hid and watched him once, so I know how to get in. I've never forgotten."

He started to feel the walls, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood until he found what he was looking for.

"There it is! Feel the wood just here."

Bella did as she was told, and was surprised to find a small part of the wall that was slightly raised above the rest.

"Press it."

She did, and her hand followed the wall as it creaked open. She gasped in amazement.

"Cool, huh? My father installed it thinking that we wouldn't be able to disturb him. He spent most of his time in here. I've only been in here a few times since…Well, anyway, do you want to go in?"

His emerald-blue eyes glinted with a hint of mischief as he went into the room and gestured to her to follow. Bella started after him, but something caused her to glance behind her. For the briefest of moments, she could have sworn she had seen the vague figure of a man watching them, but one blink and he was gone.

………………………………………………………………………………….

Inside the room, the air smelt musty; the pleasant sort of mustiness one finds in old books or medieval castles. A thin sliver of window let in a tiny amount of light. Bastian flicked a switch and the rest of the darkness was suddenly penetrated with the glow of several old-fashioned lamps dotted all about the place. Bella could see a desk piled high with yellowing papers, a wooden chair and shelves upon shelves of files and folders. Cobwebs hung from every available nook. Although the general impression of the place was one of snug cosiness, something troubled Bella about it. A feeling, an instinct; nothing more, but a negative one. I suppose you could say it gave her the creeps; everything left the way it probably had been for a decade and no-one to come back to it, like some sombre museum exhibit with no curator. She found herself shivering again, despite the warmth that now came from the radiators.

"My father would spend hours in here, sometimes days, but he'd never tell us what he was doing. When I asked, he used to tap the side of his nose with his finger, like this"…he showed her…."and wink. I used to laugh, and then forget what I asked him. He preferred it that way,"

"What did he do? I mean…for a job?"

Bastian shrugged.

"I don't know really. He brought people here with him sometimes; associates, but I was never allowed to speak to them. There was one man who was here quite a lot. He'd bring his kids; a boy and a girl. I can't remember their names now. We'd play together, you know, games and that."

He paused as if in contemplation.

"Come to think of it, they were the closest things to friends I ever had. I haven't seen them, well anyone really, since it happened. People just stayed away."

He seemed to get self-conscious as that moment, because he started making small and fidgety movements; scratching his nose, shifting from foot to foot and once again, staring at the floor.

"Bastian?" started Bella, and she reached out to him, but he flinched.

"It's fine…really. Shall we go somewhere else?"

And he had walked out of the door, without waiting for a response.

………………………………………………………………………………...

Now, some hours later, Bella recalled how the rest of the tour had been very quick; no more anecdotes, no reminisces. Bastian had seemed distracted and had behaved as if the laughter that morning had never happened. After a few more rooms, he had asked her if she wanted something to eat, as it was nearing lunchtime, and she had nodded, thinking that they could sit together, maybe outside, seeing as the weather had brightened up, but that had not been the case. He'd made her lunch, tomato soup and crusty bread, but then when she'd asked him to join her, he'd shaken his head, staying that he never normally had lunch, and that he was going upstairs, so that's where he'd be if she needed him.

Bella had eaten her lunch listening to slight thudding and grunting noises above her. She guessed he was exercising or something similar. After all, he hadn't got a body like that from sitting around. She suddenly found herself blushing at the memory. She'd spent the remainder of the day thumbing through some books from the small library at the house. There had been all her favourites: Pride and Prejudice, Rebecca, Jane Ayre, and a beautiful big book of fairy tales which she had become lost in, having always wanted one herself. She adored fairy tales, just as she adored fantasy films, because they made her think of a world other than her own; a world where princes fought for the hands of young maidens, where enchanted creatures were everywhere to be seen, and where true love triumphed over all obstacles. She always secretly hoped that one day she'd experience her own fairy tale, perhaps with herself as the brilliant heroine who releases a beast from a curse. After all, Beauty and the Beast was one of her favourites.

And, now here she was, enjoying her bath and thinking of ways to bring out the side of Bastian she saw in his eyes; the side he seemed wary of showing her, and she had come up with a plan that couldn't fail.

* * *

Yay! A few things: British alert! A 'copper jar' is not a jar full of policemen, oh no, it is a jar you put your change in, like pennies or cents, the stuff that clutters up your purse or wallet, and keep for a rainy day, where you go down that bank and annoy the cashier by saying you want to exchange $/£50 in change for notes. Just thought I'd clarify that cos I'm not sure what the American term would be for it. Not that it matters whatsoever, but there you go!

…"big book of fairy-tales."…this is inspired by my favourite 21st birthday present, which was annotated Grimms fairy tales with pretty pictures and everything! It's sooooooo good, if a little macabre in some places lol.

Oh, and I brought a gorgeous set of Beauty and the Beast lithographs off ebay! Now if I could just find somewhere to hang them next to my boyfriends posters of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre….

If you skipped that bit, which was quite likely, here are some words to you, my ever-wonderful (and patient) readers and reviewers;

**TrudiRose- **Thanks for all your words of encouragement. i'm so glad you don't think I'm cheesy cos thats what i frequently worry about. If I wrote this story the way my fluff-loving head wants me too, it would be insanely cheesy! Oh, and can i just say, how devastated I am that As The Twig Is Bent has finished!

**Bellamegs- **Hi, first of all, is your real name actually Bella? Cos I just realised that if it is, that this story could be about you! (if you spent your time hanging out with a fit loner in a house in the woods!) The 'I walked into a door' bit had to be done, i love stupid humour like that, and the awkward chit-chat, i mean surely everyone has been in that situation where you really like a guy, and want to talk to him, but all you can talk about is mundane crap. I always say that if i ever start talking about the weather with people,anyrelationship we haveis doomed!

**beautygirl- **Yeah i think we needed some light-heartedness in that chapter. The last tihng I want to do is depress people! And yes I do believe they may be developing feelings for eachother...Awwwwwwwwwwwwww!

**LumBabsFan**- Glad you liked it! And like I said before, there prob will be cheesiness later, cos I mean you have to have a little bit when you're writing about luuuuuuuurve. Don't worry I'm not just gonna chuck in Lumiere for the hell of it, that would really confuse things, but if he wants to make an appearance (and Babette) i'm sure he'll find a way. After all, he's Lumiere, he's a smooth talker.

**basketballplayer:- **First of all, thanks for reviewing, always nice to see new faces (or see new words!) I'm not sure what you mean about the boy and his mother? Do u mean Mrs Potter? And also I don't really see why town is better than village, I live in a village, we could have scary looking manors in the forest nearby, we could...but we don't, but there you go. I agree that with more time spent it could be wonderful, don't worry, i'm very aware that this is nowhere near perfect!

And finally, **Aladailey, A.M and Rosakara**- Thanks for your great reviews and your time taken to read my little ol' story!


	17. Bond

Chapter 17 up! Yay! Ok first of all, I feel I have to issue a fluff warning. Fluff up ahead. Proceed with caution, chocolate and tissues. Oh and, because I know someone's going to pick me up on this, the word 'exercise' is not a typo, its me trying to be clever and playing with words!

Disclaimer:- Basic plot-Disney. Words and waffle-me! And I don't own Edward Scissorhands or Forrest Gump either.

* * *

The voyeur turned interactor felt beads of sweat start to form on his scarred forehead as he pushed out press-up after press-up on the harsh wooden floorboards. Eyes grimacing and teeth bared, his breath came rapid and ragged as he tried to exercise the demons within him. Again and again, his arm muscles tensed and relaxed, carrying the full weight of his body as their burden. Again and again, now faster and faster. He wanted to see how fast he could go; how fast he could sweat out his frustration. He gritted his teeth and sped up some more. Heat reigned in the core of each arm and started to turn into white-hot pain. Pain that was now shooting up his arms and into his shoulders as he pressed up and down, up and down, faster and faster and faster still. His body became a glistening blur; his jogging bottoms soaked in his determination to rid himself of the despair he had felt as long as he cared to remember.

He had to do this. If he had any chance of being happy, he had to clear his thoughts, his mind, and his memories and make room for new ones. If this meant pushing himself to the limits of endurance, then so be it. He was now reaching the point where he thought he couldn't stand the pain anymore, but he wasn't ready to stop yet. The moment of release was still a few press-ups away, and he had to keep doing it. He had to keep replacing his mental pain with physical; he had to until it ran out through his pores and onto the floor beneath him. He braced himself and went for one final burst of absolute anguish. Then, with an almost inhuman scream, he collapsed face down onto the floor. For a while, he just lay there breathing so hard he thought his chest would burst, and then, with the last ounce of strength left in his soul, he curled himself into a ball and let the tears flow.

Bella, in an ill-fitting t-shirt and her old jeans, and on a mission to crack open Bastian's shell, walked down one of the many corridors that presented themselves to her. Her chocolate-brown hair hung in natural waves down her back. She'd towel-dried it; something she was not used to but had had no choice to do, having given up searching for a hair-dryer. She was vaguely aware that she did not look her best, but at the same time she recognised that her appearance was the least of her worries. Once again, Bastian had managed to make himself vanish. The noises she'd heard that had confirmed his presence while she had been in the bath had long since ceased and the house was now as silent as it had ever been. For one heart-stopping moment, she had thought she'd heard a scream, unearthly and raw, but figured it must have been the house playing with her mind again.

Now, at the end of the corridor, there were two doors. Both looked unfamiliar, despite the tour earlier. She concluded that this part of the house had been on the latter part of the tour; the part where Bastian has suddenly turned cold. She had tried to figure out exactly what she had said or done to make him change so suddenly, but like the hairdryer, it remained an enigma for now at least.

She was about to just open one the doors at random and walk in, but something stopped her and she turned to the other door instead. No sound came from within the room when she knocked and so she took a deep breath and entered.

He wasn't in there, but something was. Something lingered intertwined with the mustiness of the air. The room itself was unremarkable; a fireplace, a shelf with dusty ornaments, faded wallpaper…There were a set of weights scattered on the floor. They would normally have been out of place, being devoid of beauty and antiquity like the furnishings in the room, yet they belonged, as Bastian belonged. She could sense his presence everywhere in the room. It hung like an invisible curtain as if he had only just left, but unfortunately on this occasion his presence was not sufficient. She forced herself to leave and once again stood in the long and bleak corridor.

_Wow_ she heard herself think. _This place could really depress a person if they weren't careful. How does he not go mad…or maybe he does…_She was suddenly aware she wore his t-shirt. He was on her skin. She couldn't decide whether to be repulsed or comforted, but she did know that this particular corridor was having too great an effect on her and so she ran to a less suffocating place. Once she got to the entrance hall, she was surprised she no longer had to look for him, because he had found her.

He'd just come out of the kitchen and was standing in front of her drinking milk straight from the carton. Straight away, Bella knew there was something different about him but she couldn't place it. Whatever it was, it froze her on the stairs like a marble statue. It made the hairs on her body stand on end. It made her throat dry. It made her heart increase its rhythmic beating in her chest and for the briefest second she couldn't breathe because it, whatever it was, stuck in her throat. She let it out with a deep sigh and closed her eyes, relishing it but willing it to leave her.

When she opened her eyes again, Bastian was staring at her, milk carton stopped halfway to his mouth, concern etched onto his brow.

"Are you ok?"

Bella blushed, thinking of how strange she must have just looked, or was it something else that made the blood rush to her cheeks?

"I'm fine. I just felt…funny for a moment. It's gone now."

She managed a weak smile which he met with a broad grin that was reflected in his eyes.

"You found the t-shirt then? Sorry, it's all I could find at short notice."

"Its fine, Thank-you."

Bella's head was still woozy from whatever had hit her. What was that? It had left her unsure of herself, not completely in control, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant; more unsettling.

"I've got something to show you. Something I forgot yesterday. I think you'll like it."

Bella frowned in surprise. Why was he suddenly so sure of himself?

He noticed her expression and laughed.

"You don't have to, you know. It's just an idea I had."

For one second, the uncertainty he was trying to conceal flashed in his eyes again and this made Bella feel secure enough to accept the change that seemed to have occurred in him.

As dignified as she felt she could manage in an unflattering clothes and with messy hair, she flashed him a brilliant smile.

"Sure. Why not?"

Now it was Bastian's turn to blush, but he hid it by lowering his head. When he had composed himself, he walked towards her and then past her and up the stairs.

"This way."

She followed him to the corridor with the two doors she had stood in just minutes previously. The oppressive feeling seemed to have dissipated, much to Bella's relief. She watched as he reached for the doorknob she had rejected in her eager search for him just moments before. She couldn't help the words from falling out of her lips.

"What's the other room for?"

He paused, his hand over the doorknob, and then he spoke.

"Nothing much really. I...er...exercise in there occasionally. This…." he diverted her attention successfully…."is what I really want to show you. But first…you have to close your eyes…"

Bella looked at him as if to say 'are you kidding me?'

"It's a surprise. It's a nice one…cross my heart."

He looked so solemn that she giggled and then did as he requested. She trusted in the darkness beneath her eyelids but then the tranquillity was shattered as he took her hand to lead her into the room. She gasped as his touch unexpectedly sent tingles rippling up her arm. His hands felt slightly rough but gentle, and she let him lead her into the room. A few steps and he closed the door behind them.

"Ready?"

Bella nodded.

"Ok, open your eyes."

Bella opened them slowly, not sure of what she was going to see, but once they were open fully, she gasped in delight.

In front of her was a home cinema. A huge screen took up one wall, and the other wall was jam-packed with shelves and shelves of movies, leaving just enough room in the middle for a VCR that was wired up to a projection machine. In the middle of the room were two very comfortable looking sofas with a coffee table in front of each and in perfect viewing positions for the screen. There was also a mini fridge in the room as well as a small but well-equipped bar. To a movie-lover like Bella, it was beyond wonderful.

"What do you think?"

"It's amazing! I've always wanted one of these…in my wildest most unrealistic dreams of course."

"Well now you have one."

"Oh wow…there must be over five hundred movies there."

"Six hundred and thirty two actually. I counted once. I was extremely bored."

As Bella moved to the shelves and started flicking through the movies, Bastian explained.

"My father had this installed at the request of my mum. She was a huge movie buff and when my father wasn't working, we'd often come in here, you know, as a family and watch the latest movies she brought home from the city. I used to come in here all the time but I must have seen all of them by now, some more often than others…

He was interrupted by a squeal from Bella who had reached the 'E' section of the carefully arranged and alphabetised shelves.

"You have Edward Scissorhands!"

"Apparently so."

Bella laughed.

"It's my favourite! I haven't seen it for ages though. The last time I put it on I…er…fell asleep." _Was that only a few days ago? _she thought. _It seems so much longer._

"I'll do you a deal. We can watch it now only if we can watch one of my favourites later."

Bella laughed again and realised suddenly how, well, normal this all seemed. Watching a movie with a guy, granted that most guys didn't have their own cinema. Suddenly a burst of thoughts exploded into her head.

_Oh my god is this like a date? Is he gonna think it's a date? Do I want it to be like a date? No of course not I don't know him. Does it matter? Yes it does. We're just friends, if that. It'll be fun. Oh my god I hope he doesn't try anything. What will I do if he does? But he wouldn't would he. But do I want him to? No of course not I don't know him._

Her thoughts were interrupted by a clicking then a whirring as the projector came to life.

"Ok all ready. Do you want something to drink? There are cans and things in the fridge. Help yourself."

Bella cursed herself for reading too much into the situation and got herself a few cans of drinks from the fridge as well as some tortilla chips and dip that were also in there. With a contented sigh, she flopped into one of the sofas and was pleased to find that it was as comfortable as it looked. She opened a can of Dr. Pepper, the bag of tortilla chips and the salsa and Bastian flopped down beside her. The lights went off and they prepared themselves for an hour and a half of Tim Burton and Johnny Depp.

The movie went by faster than Bella remembered it did. They sat in silence most of the time as both hated it when people spoke during movies. They shared the chips and dip, and Bella needn't have worried as Bastian was a perfect gentleman. After Edward Scissorhands had finished, they had rather an animated discussion as to whether Kim was right to leave Edward alone or not. They never came to a conclusion. Instead, they watched Forrest Gump, Bastian's choice, and Bella found herself remembering just how much she liked it too. As the film eventually drew to its conclusion, Bella suddenly realised just how tired she was and fought a losing battle with her eyelids. She became dimly aware of the film ending and Bastian saying something then leaving the room, but after that she drifted off into dream-filled bliss.

Bastian re-entered the room carrying two mugs of steaming hot chocolate to find Bella asleep on the sofa. He gently placed the mugs down on the table and looked at her for a moment. She looked even more beautiful asleep than awake. Her lips were slightly pursed to allow for her breathing and her hair curled around her face and neck. He wondered what exactly she had done to it to get it looking so perfect; it looked like waves of rippled brown silk around her angelic face. It was at that precise moment that he realised he was in love with her. However, his love came at a price. He realised that she would probably never feel the same way about him, but somehow he didn't mind. As long as she let him be around her, he would be happy.

He was tempted to just leave her asleep on the sofa as she looked so peaceful, but common sense told him that if he did, she would ache in the morning. Very gently, as if she was a priceless treasure, he picked her up and carried her out of the room. He had never carried a woman in his arms before and spent most of the relatively long walk to her bedroom trying his best to suppress the fear of dropping her. There was one moment when he almost did because she, wrapped up in the world of slumber, suddenly murmured and held him tightly. It startled him so much he had to stop for a moment because his heart was beating too fast for him to continue. Eventually, however, he made it to her room and very carefully placed her on the bed. Then, without thinking and without even caring for thinking at all, he leant down and lightly brushed her forehead with his lips.

"Goodnight Bella." he whispered.

* * *

And there you have it. Sorry for the lack of review responses this time. I write loads and then forgot to save it, and i'm too tired to write them all out again lol Anyway, you know I love you all, right:)


	18. Sickness

Next chapter all ready! Hope you like! A nice little tense one to contrast nicely with my fluff. Fluff-lovers rejoice-the next chapter is the long-awaited ballroom scene.

Disclaimer:- Walt Disney rules the world. I rule my little story

* * *

Tristan was fuming. He'd just spent the evening with his second choice of date for his father's party, Lydia Boullenger. She was beautiful, charming, intelligent and witty, but she wasn't Bella and so her attributes couldn't have meant less to Tristan right now. He had gone through the motions all evening; spoke to her, danced with her, bedded her and now she was lying content by his side unaware that her dream man was now swigging his father's best whisky and replaying their intercourse with another face in his head.

The evening had been very successful. Patrick was renowned for his parties and that night's had been no exception. Good food, good music and most importantly, good alcohol. Every worthy villager had attended. You didn't say no to a man like Patrick Blaine, and you didn't say no to his son either, not unless you welcomed social exclusion. Right now, Tristan wanted to exclude Bella-it was the least she deserved for humiliating him. The laughter of his father still resounded in his perfectly-shaped ears and he knew, he just knew, that everyone at the party had whispered behind his back when he had made his grand entrance with only the second-best on his arm. Tristan was used to getting what he wanted, and right now he wanted nothing more than to go to Bella's house and let her see exactly what she had turned down. He took another look at the sleeping girl by his side. She was astonishingly beautiful with huge melting chocolate eyes and a figure to die for. As she slept, she murmured irresistibly. Any other guy would have never left the bed, but Tristan was not any other guy. He took a final swig of whisky and threw back his designer blankets. Dressing quickly in the shirt that showed off his pecs and the jeans that made his butt look incredible, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him, not caring if the din he was making woke up the whole hungover house. Halfway down the stairs, he heard noises coming from the living room. The one thing that had priority over vengeance in his mind was curiosity and so Tristan crept as silently as he could in his size twelve boots to the door and peered through the slit of light with his baby-blue eyes.

There, on the highly-polished floor, surrounded by broken bottles and discarded canapés, were his father and Melissa, Lydia's younger sister. The noises he'd heard had been Melissa's pathetic shrieks as Patrick relieved her of her innocence in front of the fireplace on top of which sat Tristan's favourite photograph of his mother. He held back the feelings of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't much care that his father was seducing a girl half his age (he was used to it by now) but the presence of his mother's angelic face in the same vision sickened him to the core. This was all Bella's fault. If she had said yes, Lydia would not have been his guest and she would not have brought Melissa along to be his father's whore. Now he had more reason to find her. He wiped his sleeve over his eyes rather than cry (Tristan never cried) and stomped out of the house.

As he made his way through the moonlit streets, he thought about everything that was going wrong in his life. His father was a drunken pervert, his sister and ally, Camilla, had seen sense and left ages ago and his mother only existed in the world of his memories and in the photograph that was now being desecrated by his father's lust. He tried to picture her face but every time he did, the image was blurred. It seemed to fade more and more with every year. He remembered she was beautiful; of course she was beautiful, and strong-minded, despite her daintiness. She was a wonderful hostess too. If he thought hard enough, he could recall endless dinners, dances and celebrations. His mother would be dressed to the nines, laughing and sipping champagne while his father disappeared into a cloud of black suits and cigar smoke. Their relationship had always been a tempestuous one. As his father spent more and more time away from the house, his mother would get more and more suspicious. Tristan remembered being taken along on a few of his father's trips with his sister. His mother had insisted they accompany him and so they had done, begrudgingly of course because they knew even less than their mother did. It wasn't so bad though. While his father discussed matters with his clients, Tristan would be told to 'go and play' with Camilla and whoever else was available.

That fateful night when his mother finally left played over and over in his mind as he strode towards the edge of town a decade later. What had his parents argued about that night? He respected his father too much to pry but feared him to much to forget about it.

Whatever it had been, Bella would now incur his anger. Her complete refusal to see what had to offer her (money, security, great sex) was the final straw for Tristan. Yes, he would make her see exactly what she was missing.

The cottage was silent as he approached which was to be expected, seeing as it was now 1am. They would no doubt be asleep. That was the great thing about calling on people in the middle of the night, they were almost always in. His boots crunched on the gravelled path that would up to the front door and somewhere above his head an owl hooted. It was strange, the effect night had on familiar surroundings. It made the cottage look empty, soulless, more a shell than a house. Yet in the many sunlit hours he had spent on Bella's doorstep, it had looked vibrant and welcoming. She had made it so. Now it was cast in shadow as she no longer shone within its walls. Was she there? There was only one way to find out.

The wood of the door threatened to splinter under the thunderous knocks of Tristan's clenched fist. As he knocked, he shouted:

"Bella?...Bella?" and as an afterthought "Morris?"

There was no immediate response but he felt sure he could hear faint mutterings and shuffling from the other side of the door. Slowly, very slowly, the noises grew louder but Tristan was not a patient man.

"Bella?...Morris?...open up! Open up this instant!"

Amid all his banging, there was the unmistakable sound of feet upon a scratchy doormat. Then came the sound of a key turning in a lock twinned with a door chain being carefully slid from its holder. The door opened cautiously to reveal a lined and pale brow above lifeless eyes. Morris looked terrible. His skin was ghastly- white, his eyes red-rimmed and his face clammy with sweat. His voice, when he finally spoke, rattled with wheezing.

"Tr…Tristan? Is that you? What do you want?"

"Where's Bella?"

Was it his imagination or did the old man's skin get even whiter?

"Bella? She…she's not here at the moment. Good day."

Morris tried to shut the door but he was too weak to stop Tristan from wedging his foot in the way.

"At 1 o'clock in the morning?"

Morris cast his eyes on Tristan's well-placed foot but did not make a sound.

"When will she be back?" forced Tristan between gritted teeth. He was not in the mood to make conversation with a sick pensioner. He struggled to keep his temper within him.

Morris' speech suddenly reduced to unintelligible splutters.

"I…I…duh…duh…I…"

It suddenly struck Tristan how ill Morris might be. Where on earth was Bella?

Without warning, the old mans eyes suddenly glazed over and he began to fell forward. He would have hit his head on the door frame if Tristan's cat-like reflexes hadn't made him reach out and catch Morris as he fell. Sheer panic flashed through Tristan's mind. Panic that temporarily drowned out common sense so he just stood there cradling Morris for a few minutes before adrenaline sobered him completely. He turned and ran towards the centre of the town with the unconscious inventor cuddled to his chest like an infant. He was surprised how little the man weighed despite his noticeable girth. He had never been fond of Morris but this was a fantastic opportunity to look heroic. In the market-place, and barely out of breath, he stood and bellowed until bleary-eyed people opened their windows. Luckily, one of those same people was the local GP and as soon as fresh air hit and he could focus on the bundle in Tristan's arms, he grabbed his dressing gown and practically tumbled down the stairs. Dr. Logan wasn't the best example of a health care professional. He was overweight with high cholesterol levels and frequent bowel problems, but he knew a gravely ill man when he saw one. As he dashed out of the front door, he yelled for his wife to call an ambulance and then went to assess his patient whom Tristan had now laid carefully on a bench in the centre of the square.

Various other villagers had been woken by the fuss and were now pouring out of their house led by that strange morbid curiosity that all humans possess. Tristan was delighted-it meant more people had the opportunity to witness his heroism. As was expected, they flocked to him with questions.

"What is it, Tristan?"

"What happened?"

"Who is that?"

"Is that that strange Morris fellow?"

"What's wrong?"

Normally Tristan would have enjoyed himself immensely in this situation but he suddenly found himself unable to answer their questions because a question of his own was echoing through his mind.

"_Where **was** Bella?"_

Her father was seriously ill and might have been for at least the last few days, so where on earth was she? He knew how ridiculously close the pair were. It made him wince to see them shopping the market together, arm in arm and laughing as if they hadn't a care in the world. Bella would always be running from shop to shop in the village buying steak for Morris' favourite casserole or fresh bread for his toast in the morning. She doted on the old man. And now, when he really needed her, she was nowhere to be seen. Something must be wrong. Surely a girl like Bella wouldn't swan off and leave her father on his own.

Among all the questions, a little idea started to flicker in Tristan's brain; an idea that, when fully recognised, would surely be the key to finally ensnaring Bella.

Sirens started to wail in the background but all Tristan could hear was the sound of wheels turning in his head. A slow smirk spread across his face.

* * *

Dum dum dum!

Seeing as most of the reviews were along the same vein i.e room-loving and fluff-loving, this is a collective response. Yes, I want a cinema room too. Can you imagine how unbelievably great that would be? Lol I think I'm using this story as an outlet for all my own fantasties! And fluff, fluff, wonderful fluff...resists the urge to burst into song So, Gastonians, what are youthinking about this chapter? And Pyro's and Cogette's (i'm gonna trademark the Cogette thing!) too P.S I've decided I am a Beastie Girl ( as opposed to a Beastie Boy lol)


	19. Anticipation

Whilst Morris' heart was failing him, breaking even, his daughter's was growing fonder of her strange companion, however much she might not wish to acknowledge it. Bella was enjoying Bastian's company and his new-found confidence more with every passing hour. From dawn 'til dusk they would walk around the grounds of the house or play board games or watch movie after movie or whatever the day called for.

Once, when it rained so hard and the skies were black, they found themselves on a large yet cosy sofa sipping hot chocolate (Bastian made great hot chocolate) and Bastian listened intently while Bella told him stories of her childhood in the city and her father's numerous inventing adventures. She spoke of her mother and of the long illness that swept her away, how her father could no longer bear to live in a house where the scent of her mother followed them around wherever they went, how they'd finally moved to the country and had fallen in love with the pleasant little place that was neither town nor village. She regaled him with anecdotes of the people who lived there and their peculiar ways, laughing especially ad when she told him about Tristan, Luc and the girls who followed them around like disorientated sheep. She thought she saw his eyebrows raise when she mentioned Tristan's name so she was quick to reassure him that she was not interested in him. Bastian shrugged it off, like he did so many things, including when she tried to ask him about his parent's murder. She didn't pressure him though; he would tell her when he was ready. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was upset him. Occasionally she felt a tingle up and down her spine when she looked into his eyes or when he smiled, but she dismissed such silly things quickly before she had time to think about them.

At night-time when the house lay still and the moon shone through her window and made shapes like spirits on her blankets, she found herself thinking about him and wondering if he was thinking about her. Then she would laugh top herself unconvincingly and will herself to sleep before he took over her consciousness so much that she dreamed of him.

He also lay awake at night-though not by choice. He would have given anything to dream of her but it did not happen. Instead he dreamed of screams and shattered glass. It was all that could fill his head without her when darkness reigned and her face shining like the sun was denied him. He'd learnt long ago that his sound would not let him rest while his parent's murderer was not known to him. He was glad for the brief moments when he was allowed to forget, but he craved more. He longed to smell her on his skin and feel her lips on his but he knew he would never know the bliss of her love, of anyone's love, while he was haunted constantly by the memories of his parents unsolved death.

He could forget though.

One morning, when Bella was in the shower and Audrey Potter was present and about to embark on her now daily cleaning mission, he asked her how he could make a woman love him.

She had looked at him through amber-rimmed spectacles and chuckled to herself. She found the change in the young master astonishing to behold but was glad that he still retained some of the insecurity and vulnerability that made him special. She put down her dustpan and beckoned him to a chair.

"Bastian, you cannot make a woman love you. Love cannot be forced. Instead it should be tended and nurtured until it blooms. You cannot find it where it does not want to be found"

He looked disheartened like a part of his world had crumbled. Audrey smiled, making her eyes sparkle despite their age.

"However, in your case, it is not lost. The young lady feels for you, though she may be denying it to herself."

"How do you know?"

"I don't know how I know exactly. Call it intuition, or life experience, whatever you will. I cannot say if she truly returns the strong feelings you have for her, or even knows they exist, but…she smiles when you smile, she laughs when you laugh, and perhaps most tellingly of all, she stays although she needn't stay."

She took his hand in hers.

"Bastian, you are a wonderful young man. If you want her to love you, then all you can be is yourself. If it's to be, then she will see not only with her eyes but with her heart."

Audrey laughed.

"Listen to me! I sound like the silly old romantic that I am."

Bastian cracked a grin.

"No, Mrs. Potter. You sound like the grandmother I never had."

"Cheeky! I'm not that old you know!"

Her smile grew misty.

"You have so much of your father in you…"

There was a painful silence as Bastian battled with the feelings of despair that had once again seized his mind.

"Alright here's what you do" said Audrey, a little over cheerfully. "You can't force love but you can…er…help it along a bit. It's just a case of getting everything just right."

Like a conspirator in the world's greatest plot, she leant in and shared her ideas.

…………………………………………………………………………………...

Bella looked at the two dresses laid out in front of her on the bed, not really seeing either of them. It had been twenty minutes since Audrey had come bustling into the room and chattered away like a cricket before hurling the dresses onto the bed and making an equally as abrupt exit. Bella had caught just enough words to understand that she was apparently having dinner with Bastian at 8pm and that she was to dress nicely for the occasion.

At first she had been confused as to the fuss Audrey had made over a simple dinner. She'd eaten dinner with Bastian the previous night-carefully ordered Chinese take-away eaten whilst watching The Princess Bride-but then she realised that this was to be no ordinary dinner. She'd seen enough movies and read enough bad romance novels to know that this was most likely some sort of 'date'. A date…with Bastian.

It was this concept that had made her stare through the dresses for the past half hour. Part of her (the sensible and practical part that she been ignoring far too much lately) was thinking of a polite way to decline without causing upset but the other part she liked better was experiencing that amazing mixture of feelings that come before an important occasion such as this one-the contradictory waves of excitement and apprehension that was commonly known as butterflies in the stomach.

She stroked the hem of one of the dresses with her finger. It was the most beautiful dress she had ever seen…but surely it was far too formal and glamorous for a dinner-date? It looked like it was made of silk and dipped in molten sunshine.

The other dress was not as stunning but far better suited to her needs. It was midnight black lace embroidered with deep red roses that she knew would compliment the slight copper tones in her hair and was strapless with a split up the left side. Far more contemporary that the other dress while retaining a degree of elegance and class. If she did join Bastian tonight, it would be in this dress.

She laughed to herself when she saw that Audrey had also left delicate matching shoes and what looked like a make-up case. She had obviously gone to a lot of trouble. She wouldn't be surprised if she was in the kitchen right now cooking the dinner as well.

Breathing a sigh that sounded like 'okay you win' and that was addressed to no-one in particular, Bella sat down at the mirror and started to brush her hair with trembling fingers.

………………………………………………………………………………...

On the other side of the house, Bastian paced back and forth refusing to put on the suit Mrs. Potter had suggested. She was standing in front of the door with her arms folded and her foot tapping irritatingly on the floor. Bastian paused, looked at the suit and then started pacing again.

"I'll look ridiculous!" he blasted suddenly. "I'm having dinner not accepting a bloody Oscar!"

"Sebastian Thomas Beauvais, will you calm down? You're getting yourself worked up over nothing!"

He was in her face in an instant.

"Don't call me that! You sound too much like my father!"

But Audrey was not in the mood to have Bastian threaten her. She knew just how to handle his rages. She stood her ground, hardly flinching as his eyes bore into hers before softening as he walked away.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled as he slumped himself into a chair. "Maybe this is a bad idea…no, it IS a bad idea. I don't know how to behave on a…" he swallowed hard. "…date."

"You shouldn't think of like that. You're just doing the same thing you've done every day with Bella, just with added wine, candles and nice clothes. It's not really that big a deal. Like I said before, just be yourself."

He started thoughtfully at the wall.

"I'm not being myself in that penguin suit."

Audrey threw up her hands in mock exasperation.

"Fine! Just…wear a shirt…"

She turned to leave the room.

"…and get rid of the beard. You look like you belong in ZZ Top."

And with that she shut the door and hurried to the kitchen for, as Bella predicted, she was indeed the chef for the evening.

Bastian started at the door with his mouth hanging open like a codfish. ZZ Top? ZZ Top! He'd show her! He went to the sink and grabbed a razor before realising he didn't actually know how to shave…

* * *

Ok everyone! This was meant to be the ballroom scene. However, as you can see, I went a bit mad with the build-up! You're gonna have to wait a bit longer for the next chapter I'm afraid because I have revision to do that I accidentally forgot to start, so it must take priority unfortunately! The next chapter will hopefully be up sometime next week. Thank you for your patience and continued interest. (This has been a party political broadcast on behalf of the British Pygmy Party….sorry moment of temporary insanity.) Happy reading! 


	20. Dancer

Bella walked down the staircase very slowly-partly from nerves but mainly because she hadn't worn heels for a long time and was struggling with the dynamics of walking elegantly in them. The dress fitted her perfectly, much to her surprise, complementing her figure and colouring. She had spent only a small amount of time on her make-up as she had always preferred a minimalist approach-just enough to accentuate her eyes and smile. Her hair was her finest achievement. She had never really had the opportunity to experiment with style and usually favoured a straight-forward pony-tail or just wore it loose. This time, however, she had carefully brushed and then pinned it so her chestnut waves cascaded down onto her shoulders, leaving wispy tendrils framing her face. For the first time in her life, she found herself praising the thick normally unruly tresses she had inherited from her mother--a genetic gift like her eyes.

Now those eyes darted back and forth nervously as her arm trailed along the banister behind her. No human was in sight but there was a soft light coming through an open doorway to her right. Bella still hadn't gotten used to the many doors, the long corridors and their destinations yet. She thought this one led to the dining room, which made sense, but in her tangled state of mind she wasn't sure of anything anymore except the strange feeling in her stomach--a fusion of hunger and anticipation.

She walked through the door, her nervousness growing with every step she took until she was the dining room where it leapt into her throat defiantly. She hardly recognised the place. Candles illuminated every corner, casting a subtle glow onto the table in the centre. The table was set for two with plates, wine glasses and more cutlery than was needed for one dinner surely. The scene was calm and tranquil except for a clatter of noises that came from the kitchen at the far end. Bella smiled as she imagined Mrs. Potter sweating and straining amidst pots and pans and she instinctively started to walk towards the kitchen to see if she could help out, admiring the marquetry panelling on the table as she went. It depicted magnificent beasts of all shapes and forms intertwined with intricately carved roses. She wondered how such a beautiful table could have been hidden and disused for so many years with no-one to care for it. As she neared the kitchen, she could smell all manner of wonderful aromas wafting through the gap beneath the door. She stood there a moment just allowing herself to inhale the rich scent of food. It soothed her and seemed to quell her anxiety just a little. She looked at the clock as it chimed the hour. As it finished, her eyes were drawn to the door as she if was expecting Bastian to have appeared on the stroke of eight, but he wasn't there.

Bella frowned. She hated waiting-it meant more time to get herself worked up. For no other reason than to engulf herself in comforting smells, she opened the door to the kitchen.

Heat hit her like a brick wall and she saw that every available surface was crammed with kitchen equipment or food in various states of preparation, and right in the middle of all the chaos was Audrey Potter stirring something on the stove.

"Audrey?" she asked tentatively.

The old lady whirled round.

"My goodness, child, you scared me! Weren't you ever taught not to sneak up on people?"

The hand that wasn't stirring was upon her heart.

"I'm sorry. I…just wanted to see what you were cooking. It smells so good."

Audrey gasped.

"Shame on you! Don't you know half the taste of food is in the smell? You're ruining the culinary surprise."

Seeing Bella's face, her scolding tone turned into soft laughter.

"Are you alright, my dear? You're as white as a sheet."

"I am?"

"Oh yes! Here…" She went to the cupboard and produced a bottle of red wine. "You may as well get started on this. It might help with the nerves."

Bella was stunned as she plonked the bottle in her hand.

"Now get out of here! First course-which is my homemade tomato and basil soup by the way-won't be done for another few minutes so shoo! Go on!"

And with that, a slightly flustered Bella was practically pushed out of the door, straight into Bastian who had also been led to the kitchen by his nose.

With a dual "oof!", the two collided, knocking the bottle of wine out of Bella's hands and onto the floor. Both cringed, waiting for the sound of breaking glass to echo around the room, but thankfully the floor was deeply carpeted and so no harm was done…not to the floor anyway. Bastian, who had unfortunately gotten Bella's elbow in his ribs, was not so lucky. Exasperated, Bella blurted out a mixture of incoherent mumbles that sounded like a cross between 'Oh my god!" and "I'm so sorry!" repeated over and over again to his back and his neatly-pony-tailed hair.

Bastian recovered and turned to face Bella whose face was now almost the same colour as the wine in her hand.

"Are you ok…" he started, but the last syllable died in his throat as he realised how beautiful she looked.

Bella was also rendered speechless when she finally saw Bastian's face clearly. He looked so different yet familiar at the same time. Without his beard, his eyes finally matched the rest of his features and the harmony meant that he had suddenly become very aesthetically pleasing. She couldn't tear her gaze from him as she followed the shape of his face.

He was the first to look away-his self-consciousness getting the better of him and realised that if he was going to survive the evening with his dignity intact then he needed a drink. He took the bottle of wine from Bella's hand with a shy smile and opened it before pouring them a glass each.

As he poured, Bella found herself wanting to say everything all at once but not being able to. All she could do was stare at him as he handed her a glass. Grateful for the distraction, Bella allowed the mellow yet spicy liquid to fill her senses. It allowed her enough time to get a hold of herself and when she placed the glass back onto the table, she was able to look at him without seizing up. Just as she was about to open her mouth, Mrs. Potter interrupted with a far-from-gracious yell of "SOUP'S READY!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The soup was followed by a delicious beef ragout and cheese soufflé and then by a gigantic Crème Brulee which they struggled to finish between them. After the initial awkwardness they had experienced at first glance of each other, Bella and Bastian started to relax in their own company again and were soon chatting away about everything that they hadn't talked about yet while Mrs. Potter bustled in and out constantly smiling and muttering to herself about either body language or the best way to blow-torch demerara sugar.

The meal was over far too quickly for Bella, even though she was certain she could not have eaten another bite. She looked across at Bastian who was carefully wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"So…what shall we do now?"

Bella racked her brains whilst pretending to concentrate on folding her napkin into the shape of a swan. She glanced at the clock. It was only twenty past nine. Surely far too early to call it a night?

As if in immediate answer to her question, music appeared as if from nowhere. If she had been looking anywhere other than at Bastian, she would surely have noticed their erstwhile chef playing around with the stereo system. The delicate music made her heart feel light and she thought of an activity she had not done properly in years and would now never think of doing it with anyone other than her present company. Smiling, she took Bastian's hand, relishing once again the sparks that danced where their skin touched, and led him to the conservatory. She'd been in there before while exploring. It was a huge empty space surrounded on three sides by views of the gardens. Now at night, it was transformed into a place of magic and enchantment. Stars twinkled through the windows, candles flickered, sending misty haze into the air and casting blue-black shadows onto the wall. The inexplicable yet unmistakable scent of rose petals drifted through the air.

"Erm…what are we doing," said Bastian, hesitantly and with his voice barely above a whisper, as if somehow the normal volume of his speech did not fit the situation.

"Something different," whispered Bella back. She giggled as she saw that Bastian still looked wary.

"I'm going to teach you how to dance."

"Wh…wh…what," he spluttered. "I don't know how to dance."

Bella rolled her eyes. "That's why I'm going to teach you!"

"But….why?"

"Are you afraid of trying something new? There's more to life than exercising and watching movies all the time you know."

Bella walked to the stereo system and adjusted it so music clouded into the conservatory.

"We were taught ballroom dancing as an extra-curricular activity at school. I loved it but after it ended, the only person I could practice with was my father and his limbs aren't really designed for dancing."

She walked towards Bastian.

"Will you dance with me…please?"

Hesitantly, but nonetheless willingly, Bastian nodded and took Bella's outstretched hand. He gulped as Bella then arranged his arms around hers, and they started to dance.

Bella was surprised at how quickly Bastian learnt the steps and how his athletic body became graceful under her tuition. At first, he was stiff. She could feel every muscle tensed underneath his clothes and this caused him to stumble a lot.

"I'm sorry," he gasped as he trod on her toe for the third time.

Ignoring the pain, Bella told him to look at her, not at his feet. Once he looked into her face he was able to relax and everything from then on came easy to him. Once Bella was sure that he had mastered the basics, she felt that she could also relax, and she found herself falling into his beautiful eyes. They looked clearer than ever before-so clear she felt that she could almost glimpse his soul. As they gently moved around the room, Bella could hardly feel the floor beneath her feet. She sighed in contentment and rested her head on Bastian's chest. This was where she stayed until the very last note of the music played and the starry sky beckoned them out into the night.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A few moments later, they were strolling through the gardens and Bella finally got the answer to the question that had been plaguing her for so long. As Bastian relived the discovery of his parent's bodies in his mind, he walked slowly as if in a trance with the moonlight shining on his face. For the first time in ten years, he was no longer afraid of sharing that moment with another person.

"They looked so peaceful that I thought they were asleep. As I got closer, I noticed identical gunshot wounds in their forehead but I still didn't understand what had happened to them--not fully anyway…

_The little boy crept closer to the figure of his mother on the ground. Despite the funny red dot that contrasted too well with the pallor of her skin, he thought she looked beautiful. His father was lying next to her, his arm draped protectively over hers. The boy was puzzled. Were they playing some sort of game? He reached out a trembling hand and brushed a curl away from his mothers face with his finger._

"_Mummy?" he whispered, but no breath came from her lips in response. She lay still like a statue carved of alabaster. Not quite knowing what to do, the boy knelt beside the lifeless figures of his family and wept quietly._

Bastian paused and looked up at the moonlit sky as if he expected to see his parents' outlines written in the stars. He had lost count of how many nights he'd relived the scream, then the silence. Some nights he'd even dreamt that he had woken up and saved them from their fate, but somehow that dream was worse than the nightmares.

"Mrs. Potter found me there a few hours later. She took care of everything so I wouldn't have to. I'll never forget the fear in her eyes when she told me that we could never go to the police, it was too dangerous, and that there were powerful forces behind it that we should not mess with."

He paused.

"It was a hired hitman that pulled the trigger but when I try and picture him, he doesn't have a face. He's just a puppet."

"So…you never found out who did it?"

"No…probably never will, and even if I did know, what could I do about it?"

Bella felt she understood-not the horror of kneeling by your murdered parents (she would never understand that)-but she felt that she knew why Bastian shut himself off from the outside world the way he did. Who could want to live in a society where people can kill and get away with it? Bastian's world had come crashing down that day and he had been buried under the rubble ever since. She felt helpless. What could she do? What could she possibly say that would make everything better, short of crossing impossible boundaries to bring his parents back.

She did the only thing she could think of. She wanted to let him know that he needn't be alone anymore. She took him in her arms and held him. He nestled his head on her shoulder and she felt hot, silent tears on her neck. She closed her eyes and they simply stood there in the silvery moonlight, entwined in each others hopes and fears.

* * *

Hi everyone! First of all, a million and one apologies for taking sooooooo long to write this chapter. A lot of stuff got in the way (mainly leaving uni and moving house) so I have my reasons! We're getting towards the big climax now (sob! its all happened so fast!)

A big thank-you to Trudi cos I gave in and asked her to be my beta for this chapter :) And a big hello to Trudi, Faith, Klaske,Valerie, Nikki, Carrie and Catherine ( i think thats everyone!) who have kept me entertained with spirited chat over the last few days, mainly about SAG lol Oh and also big love and hugs to all my wonderful reviewers especially bellamegs for always being constant and Damien for finally getting round to reviewing my story (and writing a great one of your own!) lol why does this sound like I'm accepting an Oscar?


	21. Longing

Hi everyone! This is only an ickle chapter while I write the remaining big scary climactic chapters. Enjoy!

Disclaimer:- Basic plot:- Property of Disney. Word and waffle:- Property of me

* * *

The moon shone brightly as Bastian guided Bella into the attic and showed her his private world. To Bella, it seemed a different place than the one she had entered without permission so many days ago. It was warmer somehow, more inviting. Her eyes were once again drawn to the drawings on the desk. There were more of them now—beautiful landscapes, shining sunsets and underneath those were some unmistakable pictures of her. Her dancing, her smiling, her laughing-all uncannily accurate down to the last freckle on her nose. Her heart swelled with a peculiar mixture of emotion--happiness, pity, anxiety, joy—and she felt a single tear fall from the corner of her eye and move delicately down her cheek. She realised that he loved her…but why? She would only break his heart. She could never give him what he wanted. The tear fell onto the drawing in her hand, smudging the ink and smearing the intricate artistry.

Suddenly and silently, Bastian, who had been preoccupied with something on the other side of the room, took the papers from her hand into his own.

"You don't want to look at those. They're just silly drawings," he mumbled, as he folded them up and made as if to throw them away.

"No!" Bella caught his arm. "They're really good. You…you have talent…"

Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to think of a good way to phrase her next question, not even sure if she wanted to know the answer to it.

"Erm…Bastian…you know, before…when I came in here and…well you know what happened…erm…" she cleared her throat "…there was a drawing of…of me that must have been done before you met me. How…How did you…?"

Bastian said nothing, he could not speak. Wordlessly, he pointed to an object near the window; his father's binoculars. Bella picked them up, puzzled. Bastian found his voice and said everything in one breath as if he would lose his nerve if he let himself pause.

"I used to watch the village through those a lot. One day I saw you. You were standing on the edge of town crying. You looked so sad and…and beautiful that I had to draw you."

He stopped and took a gulp of air. Bella chose not to look at him and ignored the blatant meaning behind his words.

"Can I try them? I think I'm beginning to forget what the village looks like."

"Sure. Go ahead," said Bastian, unaware that he soon regret it.

Bella peered through the binoculars and saw her home town. It was still and eerily quiet. No living soul could be seen on the dark streets that were illuminated every so often by a tall and imposing street lamp. She could see the book shop, the video rental place, the general store—all the places she knew so well and realised now that she missed. She felt so detached from it all, almost as if she was in another world, and in many ways she was. She was now just an observer on a life that had once been hers--a life she had longed to escape from just days ago but that now beckoned her heart back towards it with welcoming arms. Normality had never looked so inviting to her as it did at this moment. There was the cobbled courtyard she has stumbled on so many times. There was the newsagents where she bought the morning paper and there was the news stand outside that proclaimed the headlines so proudly. It was cleverly positioned in the light given off by a solitary street lamp nearby and the words on it seemed to jump out at her, begging to be read. Bella found the 'zoom' button and pressed it eagerly so she could read the latest news from home. Everything stopped within her as she read the headline.

**OLD MAN'S HEART BREAKS OVER MISSING DAUGHTER**

Black on white. Clear as crystal. Etched onto her vision so that when she closed her eyes it still burned there. There was a photo accompanying the words. Her photo. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the 'zoom' button again in order the read the smaller print below it.

**Morris Verte, 62, was rushed to hospital last night after collapsing at his home. There is still no sign of his only known family, his daughter, Bella, 19.**

Bella could read no more, even if she wanted to, for her vision was starting to blur. The binoculars could not lie. Her father was ill and she was enjoying herself in some house in the woods. She started to sob. Bastian heard her cries of pain and instantly moved to comfort her, but she tore away from his arms.

"I have to go. I have to leave. I have to go," she chanted between sobs like a mantra whilst she ran out of the room and down the stairs.

"Bella…wait! Bella!" shouted Bastian after her. "Bella!"

She was fast but he was faster. He caught up with her and held her arm gently but firmly. She tired to twist out of his grip.

"Bella! What is it? Tell me…please?" he pleaded as she senselessly battled with him.

"Let…me…go!"

"Tell me what's wrong and I will!"

She stopped struggling long enough to choke out "My father!" and then she took advantage of Bastian's stunned state to wrestle free and continue running. Bastian didn't follow her. There was no point.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Minutes later, Bella was running through the forest punishing herself with her thoughts. She was too determined to let herself get lost. Tears ran like rivers down her face. How could she be so stupid? How could she have let herself stay when she was needed at home? Why did she get herself caught up in some ridiculous fantasy world when reality is what mattered? And now her father—the most important person in her life—was dying and it was all her fault. Well, not all HER fault. It was Bastian's too. How dare he allow her to forget herself! How dare he wave an impossible dream in front of her! How dare he make her love him!

The trees flew past her and their roots shied away from tripping her up. The forest that had scared her so much when she had left now parted to let her through with no hassle. The mud dared not catch her heels; the twigs dared not reach out to tangle themselves in her hair and the village was soon in front of her as if it had been all along. Bella had no time to cherish the feel of familiar pavement beneath her feet. She raced to the hospital.

* * *

You like? You know what to do :)

Ok I'm actually going to reply to the reviews this time. Yay!

First up, we have **LumBabsFan**. Thanks again for a wonderful review :) You're the best gives you a hug And no worries about me guilt-tripping you over the fact that you update far quicker than me. Lol I'm just looking for other people to blame all the time. And the file you sent me was brilliant, it really made me smile. Rest assured, I shall be pestering you for others in the near future!

And then we have **TrudiRose. **First of all, thanks again for checking this chapter over for me and all the words of encouragement. gives you a hug too As for your guess about the ending, like you said, you'll just have to wait and see...trails off in an irritating manner

Next up:- **bellamegs, **I'm glad you were happy when the e-mail that said I'd updated, at long last! It doesn't happen that often so I think you should print it off and frame it for posterity lol You said such sweet things in your review, I felt all warm and fuzzy inside. gives you a hug too Hope you enjpy this chapter as much :) And the Oscar thing? I promise that if I ever win an Oscar (which is extremely unlikely) I will thank you and everyone else here at fanfiction. lol the list of people to thank is getting bigger every day. I want to annoy them by listing everyone I've ever known and carrying on even after they play that hurry-up music until I have to get dragged off by security lol

And next is **beautygirl, **I'm so happy that you thought I did the updated ballroom scene very well. It wasn't easy to do, but after a lot of advice from all the wonderful people on here I'm pleased with the result. And, yes, romantic and poignant...sighs I LOVE romance (lol that sounds weird) I can't wait to write the rest of the romance that will come, but until then theres a lot of action so I'll have to wait. Grrrrrrrrr! And glad you spotted the 'beef ragout, cheese souffle' link, I just HAD to put it in lol seeing as I'm giving out hugs quite freely today, you can have one too gives you a hug

And **Damian (Levana)**...don't think I've ever written you a proper review response. Well, here's your first one :) (asides from the mention of the Oscars, see bellameg's response above to see what I'm actually going to do if I get an Oscar) I am really glad you liked that chapter, and yes they are cute together, not quite as cute as Lizzie and Joshua, but still cute. Did I update quickly enough to get that kiss off...ofa completely fictional character? Hmmm...I do worry about myself sometimes. I would send Bastian round to kiss you but he's kind of stressed at the moment... oh, and heres your hug gives you a hug

And last, but by no means least, **jr.Journalist**. Haven't ever written you a response either. And I just realised I didn't mention you at my fake awards ceremony, I am sooooooo sorry. I really appreciate your reviews :) gives you a hug Fluff does indeed rule. Unfortunatly, fluff is going to be absent for a short period but dont' worry, there will big bags of fluff near the end. Yay!


	22. Family

Yes I know its a short chapter, but short chapters suit my purpose at the moment! I decided to print of the whole thing so far yesterday so I could easily refer to it when I was writing. It was 72 pages long! I used up most of my dads new black ink cartridge-he was not pleased! Happy reading!

Disclaimer:- Basic plot-propety of Disney. Words and waffle -property of me.

* * *

Tristan Blaine paced up and down the moonlit hallway trying to formulate a plan that would make all his dreams come true. Bella would finally be his, whether she liked it or not. He played out the fateful moment in his head. She would stand there shaking from a glorious blend of fear and desire and then he would pick her up in his massive arms and take her to one of his cars where they'd drive off to his father's isolated country lodge and spend the next week making endless and blazing love. It was the perfect scenario. He just had to figure out how to get her to that point. Fortunately, he now had a potent weapon to use against her. It was simply a case of finding the best way to put his plan into action.

However, Tristan had no gift for strategy. He was very much an impulsive person. He thrived on risks and spontaneity and a lot of the time this worked for him, but on this occasion he could not afford for anything to go wrong. The slightest mistake meant that he would end up a disgrace--both to the Blaine family name and the village that had always adored him. Bella would come back soon. He had no doubt of that and when she did, he'd be ready for her…but with what?

Tristan kicked the nearest item of furniture in frustration. Unfortunately, it was a very solid mahogany desk and he merely succeeded in making his toes throb along with the veins in his temples. He hopped up and down on one leg in agony, gritting his teeth and screwing up his eyes.

It was at this very moment that Patrick chose to enter the corridor and encounter his only son dancing around the place in a very undignified manner. He took a long swig of the whisky that never left his hand and shook his head.

"Son? What are you doing?"

"What do you care?" was the immediate response.

"Now, now! No reason to behave like that, is there? Drink?"

He thrust the bottle in Tristan's general direction but Tristan shook his head dejectedly. Patrick was beyond confused. A problem that could not be solved with whisky? One that could not be soothed by the feel of a delicate fire in ones throat and the sweet sense of numbness in ones thoughts? It must be serious.

"What's the problem, son?"

"Nothing."

Tristan's eyes were as black as thunder. He was starting to forget the pain in his toe.

"It doesn't look like nothing" said Patrick, taking a few tentative steps forward whilst the bottle in his hand swayed in time with his footsteps.

"Will you get that thing out of my face?" snarled Tristan, his heavy hand reaching for his dads pride and joy. Patrick was in his face before he could get to it.

"Careful, son!" he warned. "You wouldn't want to get me angry now, would you?"

"No, sir," said Tristan from behind clenched teeth as he desperately tried not to inhale his fathers stagnant breath.

"That's better. Now…what if I told you that I know where your little girlfriend is? Hmmm?"

Tristan's ears pricked up. His eyes stared in disbelief and his mouth suddenly felt dry.

"What?"

"I said, I know where Bella is, son. Are you deaf or something?"

"But…but how?" Tristan stammered.

"Never mind that for now. Are you going to pay attention or not?"

Tristan could only nod.

"Good. Now, listen carefully…."Patrick gently brought his son towards him with a rough hand, but then suddenly changed his mind.

"No, not here," he murmured to himself. "Somewhere more private."

In a few minutes, the two of them were sat in Patrick's study. Tristan was astonished. He was now seemingly allowed in the room that had got him into so much trouble at long last. Perhaps this meant that his father finally trusted him. He watched as Patrick lit a cigar then sat down in his chair, resting his feet on the desk in front of him. Then, as calmly as fallen snow, he said

"She's in danger. Here, have one of these bad boys."

Tristan lit the cigar with trembling fingers and then learnt back mirroring his father's position. After a few good puffs he said "Tell me what I have to do to save her."

"Now, that's my boy" grinned Patrick, feeling closer to his son than he had in years.

Two hours, six cigars and a generous amount of whisky later, he had told him everything.

* * *

I am aware that I didn't get this chapter checked this time so its probably full of grammatical errors! I was too eager to get it online!

Review responses:-

**LumBabsFan:-** I'm glad you thought the binoculars worked. Coming up with the modern-day counterparts of things always make me a bit apprehensive so yay! And of course this won't be the last time they see eachother :) And I was originally gonna make her leaving him a bit more romantic as it is in the film, but at the last minute I opted for the dramatics instead. Besides, i'm thinking she feels just a little bit guilty right now so having a slushy goodbye would be the last thing on her mind. A for whats going to happen next-you'll just have to wait and see!

**TrudiRose- **Thanks for all your really kind words and your help with my grammer so far. Didn't employ your servies on this chapter cos i just wanted to get it posted. I'm aiming for quick updating for these shorter chapters. Anyway, the insane asylum and the mob-I have ideas that I'm really hoping will work. I might actually run them by you first, but its going to be...interesting!

**Isabella:- **Hi! Thanks for reviewing. That chapter was one of my favorites to write too so I'm glad you enjoyed it. I do like exploring the darker side of fairy tales-when you're setting them in modern-day you kind of have to make them darker a bit. Anyway, thanks a lot. Hope you find time to read the rest soon.

**Lauren;- **Thank you so much! I'm really flattered that you think this is one of the best fanfictions you've read:) I also love Beauty and the Beast (is it obvious? lol)

**Rosakara:- **Thanks! And don't worry I will be updating soon. can't just leave you hanging, can I?

**bellamegs- **Ok, that was surreal lol I think it was meant to be positive...I don't want to ask and yet i feel I am compelled to do so, so...what?

**jr.Journalist**- Of course you get mentioned, you're one of my reviewers now-you can't escape! Mwahahahahaha! Ahem...yeah sorry about the suspense thing, but I should warn you, i think its gonna get worse. I'm in the mood for some cliffhangers! Oh, and the fluff at the end? It will be the best display of fluff you have ever seen...or will it? Mwahahahahahaha!

**Damian:- **And the prize for most interesting (and longest) review goes to...Thanks for satisfying my sad delusions so nicely. Now I've got my kiss from a make-believe hero I'll stop bothering him so he can go back to Lizzie in peace. Lol I'm glad you think i did the perfect emotional response...it just felt right doing it that way. Hope you like this chapter too. P.S What's strep?


	23. Regrets

So this chapter was meant to be short...but what are you going to do? lol Once I started writing I just couldn't stop. Hope you like, everyone! I'm away for the weekend so no more updates til next week I'm afraid, but I will be on a train for long periods of time so plenty of opportunites for me to get the next chapter written.

Disclaimer:-Basic plot: Property of Disney. Words and waffle:Property of me!

* * *

The world seemed to part for Bella as she ran towards the stark grey building. All around her were people she knew and didn't know and wouldn't recognise even if she wanted to. She felt as if she was in a bubble—cut off from the noise and bustle of the villagers around her by an invisible aqueous skin. Tears of anxiety and guilt had left silvery trails of moisture down her cheeks. Her tired legs protested with every step as if she had been running forever. The brutal double doors that marked the entrance to the hospital were now within her sight and she ran to them, vaguely aware that her flustered form flying forwards was drawing strange looks and whispers from every direction. She laughed bitterly. What else was new?

She hardly felt the cool metal of the door handle beneath her fingertips as she yanked the door open. Standing in the reception area, her bubble burst. Noises—beeps, mutterings, shouts, moans—they all wrapped themselves around her head and she was reminded all too sharply why she was here.

"Morris Verte," she blurted to the receptionist who had just put down the phone and was now eyeing her up and down with raised eyebrows. Bella realised wearily that she was still wearing full make-up and a formal dress. Her hair, so elegantly pinned earlier on, was now hanging unevenly round her face.

"Morris Verte?" repeated the receptionist.

"Yes, where is he? Is he ok?"

"And are you a friend or relative?" the woman said in an irritatingly monotonous tone.

"I'm his daughter."

"Hmmm…….let's see…." She began typing and looking at the computer screen in front of her. Was it Bella's imagination or was she taking far too long? Everything had slowed down rather quickly after the sheer franticness of the last half hour and Bella suddenly felt woozy. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

"Are you alright, Miss? You look pale."

"I'm fine. Just, please, tell me where my father is."

"Recovery room six. Down the hall and to the left, then through two sets of double doors, take another left and its right in front of you."

"Thank-you."

Bella started to run again, but was abruptly halted by the no-nonsense tone of the receptionist.

"Miss? Miss! Could you not run please? This is a hospital, not a race-course."

"Oh! S…sorry…" flushed Bella and she slowed her pace just enough so that it couldn't be classified as running. The directions stamped themselves into her head as she walked down the corridors and through the doors. The hospital walls were too white-it hurt her swollen eyes to look at them. Teamed with the harsh glare of the overhead lights, the effect was stifling. She did her best to focus on her approaching goal—a nice tranquil wooden door with 'Recovery Room Six' emblazoned on it.

Recovery Room.

Recovery.

That had to be a positive thing, right?

Bella took a deep breath and finally escaped the bright glare of the corridor. She walked into the room.

"Bella? Is that you?" said a voice from a bed in the corner.

"Daddy!"

Bella ran to his bedside, almost tripping up on her heels. Her father was sitting up in bed, a thin smile on his wan face. It took all his effort to take her hand in his and let her cry on his shoulder. He felt her tears melt through his night gown. He also felt like crying but it would not be right for a daughter to witness her father's tears, so he willed them away and they obeyed.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he choked.

"Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Morris was touched by her childlike whispers. More and more tears flowed from her eyes. Her mascara started to run. Morris gently moved her face from his shoulder and looked her in the eyes.

"What on earth have you got to be sorry about, my girl? None of this is your fault…Wait, that man…that thing…how did you get away?"

Bella froze as she suddenly remembered the last thing she had seen before leaving the house—Bastian's eyes, beautiful and full of pain.

"It's not important right now. I'm here, that's all that matters," she said, trying her best to stop her voice from shaking. Morris nodded in agreement.

"I was so worried about you, what would happen to you. I thought about calling the police so many times but…"

Bella silenced him with a gentle shhhhhhh and put a delicate finger to his lips.

"It doesn't matter now."

She didn't want to think of the hows and whys and the events that had led them up to this point. All that mattered was here and now.

"Are you going to be ok?"

"The doctors said I had a minor heart attack…."

A loud sob escaped from Bella's lips.

"…but I'm making good progress. They think I should be able to go home within the week."

"Oh, thank god! You're really going to be ok?"

"That's what they said. I got to the hospital really quickly, thanks to Tristan."

"Tristan?"

The mention of his name sent Bella's brain into weary panic mode.

"Yes. He was the one who found me. Of course, I don't remember much about it. I think I fell right into his arms. Must have scared the poor lad half to death."

"So…he rescued you?"

"Well…yes…I guess you could put it like that. He's a good kid, you know. Maybe you should reconsider…"

Morris' words were drowned out as the subject of their conversation flung the door open with a flourish. He marched in with a beaming smile and a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"How are you, old man?"

He stopped as he noticed Bella looking a complete mess at her father's side.

"Hi Tristan" she said weakly.

"Bella? My god! Where have you been? The whole town's talking about your mysterious disappearance."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you" she smiled, and she was glad to see that he smiled back. Maybe this was one area of her life she could have some control over.

"Tristan, can I talk to you outside for a moment?"

"Sure." he said, placing the flowers on the bed beside Morris.

"I'll be right back, Father." She leant forwards and kissed his frail cheek, then she beckoned Tristan to follow her out of the room.

. Once they were in the relative security of the corridor outside, she studied his face. His strikingly blue eyes looked tired as if he hadn't been getting much sleep. She grimaced as she noticed a faded red hand mark on his cheek.

"Listen…I…I just wanted to thank you for finding him and bringing him here. I know you didn't have to, especially after the way I've been treating you lately. So…er…thanks, it means a lot to me that you were there for my father when…when I couldn't be."

"You're welcome" he said, and he moved forward to give her a hug. Gratefully, Bella accepted. It felt good to know that she might be able to count Tristan as a friend finally. His arms felt so safe that for a moment she didn't want to leave. They separated, and he leant in towards her, smelling her natural perfume before he placed his lips on hers. Her heart sank as she realised what he was up to and she gently but firmly pulled away.

"No…no.…."

"Yes, Bella, yes. Come on, you know you want to" and he leant in again. This time, her reaction was stronger.

"I said no, Tristan"

In an instant, his mood changed. He stared at her, a tempest starting to replace the calmness in his eyes. The red mark on his cheek seemed to glow a little. His breathing quickened.

"Is this the thanks I get for everything I've done? Your father might be dead now if it wasn't for me. Tell me Bella, how does it feel to know that you weren't there for your father when he truly needed you?", he snarled.

Tears started to well up in Bella's eyes once more, but this time they were full of anger. They scalded her cheeks with their heat.

"How dare you! You don't even know what I've been through."

"Let's face facts, Bella. Your fathers been in that house all alone and ill for god knows how long and meanwhile you've been dancing around with some guy in the woods. Not very daughter-like, was it?"

He revelled as her facial expression changed to one of shock.

"How did you…?"

"I know more than you think, Bella, and I'm sure that Social Services would love to hear all about it. Some people call it elder abuse.--the poor old man left all alone while his only daughter prefers to fuck some tramp."

Bella's palm flew swiftly towards Tristan's cheek but this time he caught her wrist inches from his face.

"Nice try. As if I'd let you do that to me again…come to think of it, I could probably get you done for assault too."

He released her arm, throwing it roughly back towards her. Bella's head was swimming with disbelief. Tristan had never been the nicest of guys but she would never have thought him capable of such spite.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, choking on her tears. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Humiliated me, in front of everyone, time and time again. Repeatedly refused to have anything to do with me. I have feelings too, you know, Bella! And besides, I'm just being a good citizen."

The words coming out of his mouth worried Tristan slightly. He was rather diverting from the plan that he and his father had carefully concocted earlier. He didn't want to hurt her. Why did she have to be so stubborn? He found himself reaching out to comfort her, wanting to feel the warmth of her tears on his shoulder, but she flinched away.

"Bella…it doesn't have to be like this. I don't have to do anything. I really don't want to."

"Then why…?"

He shushed her as if shushing a baby.

"I'll tell you what. I won't say anything to the authorities if…."he trailed off.

"If what?"

"If you marry me."

"What?"

"Ok, fine! If you promise to be my girl. We'd be so good together, Bella. Why can't you see that?"

"You unimaginable asshole!" hissed Bella, unaware she was twisting an unseen dagger into his already scarred heart with every word. "I will never…NEVER…go out with you!"

Tristan fought his hardest against the tears in his eyes, instead allowing fury to rise up from within him.

"Have it your way!" he roared.

Bella laughed, her anger clearing her mind and allowing her to realise that Tristan's threats were empty.

"I never neglected my father and he'll say that as well. You've got nothing against me. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Tristan had had a slight feeling that his pitiful attempts at blackmail wouldn't work. After all, that had been _his_ idea and he was awful with planning. Time to move onto Plan B-the truth.

"It's because of him, isn't it?"

"What?" said Bella, rapidly tiring of the conversation and desperately craving something with caffeine in it.

"Your dirty little boyfriend whose company you prefer over your father."

Bella sighed.

"I'm not listening to this. Go home, Tristan."

She didn't know where he'd got his information and she didn't care. It seemed clear to her that he was merely clutching at straws now. She started to walk down the corridor.

"He'll hurt you, Bella. He's not who you think he is."

She tried not to listen, but he bounded up behind her and whispered poison in her ear.

"I know him. He's a murderer."

That word stopped Bella dead in her tracks for it was at the very root of all her fears and doubts about Bastian. It scared her far more that Tristan or the woods. It froze her to her very core. Tristan was in front of her now, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes looking straight into hers.

"I didn't want to tell you but you've left me no choice. He killed his parents, Bella!"

…_They looked so peaceful that I thought they were asleep. As I got closer, I noticed identical gunshot wounds in their foreheads…_

"Why…why should I believe anything you tell me?" gasped Bella, struggling to force air into her lungs.

"Because it's the truth, I swear. My dad used to take me and Camilla round there when we were little to play with him whilst he sorted out business deals. He was always weird. And then about then years ago, his parents were found dead. The killer was never found. They said it was a hit man, and do you know why? Because it was him. It was all a cover-up. Why do you think I won't go anywhere near those woods?"

Bella looked into his startlingly blue eyes, searching for lies but she saw none. He truly believed in every word he was saying. Memories of the past few days flew through her head in a montage.

Bastian's inability to come to terms with his parents death. His social exclusionShe shuddered as she remembered how he'd told her that Mrs. Potter did not call the police. The anger and cruelty that had been in his eyes when she'd first met him. The ease at which he'd fought off those youths who had attacked her in the forest. It was all making too much sense for her to bear.

"But…he wouldn't. He couldn't…"

"How long have you known him, Bella? A few days? A week at the most? How could you possible know what he's really capable of?"

"No…No…" was all Bella could say. She was now sitting on the floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest with Tristan holding her gently.

"I don't believe it."

"Jesus, Bella! Have you really let yourself fall for his tricks? His lies? Just thinking of you spending a few hours with that creep makes my blood boil. You could have ended up in the same place as his parents."

He groaned.

"Why did I let you go into those woods? If he had killed you, it would have been all my fault. Thank god, you're alive."

Bella looked across at him. He was shaking with emotion. She'd never seen him so vulnerable.

"And the police…letting him get away with it all these years. It's sickening."

His face was red. His eyes blackened before her. Suddenly he leapt to his feet; a frightening grin plastered onto his face. Bella sensed all too well what he was thinking of doing. She scrambled to her feet beside him.

"Tristan, no!"

She tried to turn his face towards her but he shrugged it off.

"Tristan…TRISTAN!" her heart screamed after him. He stopped and faced her one last time.

"He's dangerous, Bella. He's a monster. He's finally going to get what's been coming to him," he said, steely determination locked in his eyes, and with that he marched down the corridor.

Bella sunk to the ground, a quivering wreck. What on earth should she do now?

* * *

Duh-dun!

My thanks once again to Trudi for being my beta on this chapter and also for helping me out with a bit that didn't quite work before. Hope it does now!

Ok, another group review cos I've got to get off this computer before my eyes go all square. Hope this chapter makes up for the incredible shortness of the previous one. Got a feeling the next one will be long too! Thanks for all of your enthusiasm and kind words. It means loads to me that you all enjoy my writing and take the time to review-especially all the new reviewers that seemed to have popped up recently! Thanks, you guys rock! So, **Damian, Faith, Trudi, Nuintincowen, Rosakara, RoxyFoxyChick** and **Isabella-**this chapter is dedicated to you. Enjoy!


	24. Thoughts

Bella remained on the floor for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes staring straight ahead at the overly white-washed wall, her mind in turmoil. She'd only just been reunited with her father but her heart was already calling her back to Bastian. She feared for his life. Tristan's eyes had looked like black holes when he'd told her that Bastian was 'going to get what was coming to him'—empty voids without a twinge of fear or any other discernible emotion other than hate within them. She had no doubt in her mind that he was capable of murder that night, even though his motive was ridiculous. Jealousy thinly disguised as justice. At the very least, she knew he would try to assert his dominance the only way he knew how; with physical force. It was as if they'd all been hurtled back hundred of years in time. Suddenly, all the laws of civilisation that society had painstakingly built up throughout history no longer seemed to matter. It had simply become a case of fighting for what he considered his property—stone-age style.

It all seemed so absurd to Bella, yet it would happen unless she did something about it. Calling the police was useless. She was pretty sure Tristan's family more or less owned them. Whatever the outcome, Tristan would no doubt get away with whatever he did—it was almost inevitable. He would make Bastian suffer and then walk away with a smile on his face. Not that Bastian would be an easy target—she had seen how effective he was at defending himself—but a heavy feeling of dread nonetheless weighed down her heart. Tristan could easily figure out Bastian's weaknesses—one of which was, she realised with a gulp, was her—and then he would go in for the kill, like a wild animal pouncing on its prey. The subject of his parents would be another sore point. Bastian had become a wreck in her arms when he had told her of their deaths. God only knew how he would react when he was directly accused of their murder.

Once again, Bella just could not shake that awful feeling of uncertainty. Every fibre of her being screamed that he was not the one responsible for their merciless slaughter, but she could not help but admit that it was a very real possibility. The same strength and dexterity that would help Bastian fight off Tristan could also make him a killer. But Bastian had no motive—that was what stopped her from completely condemning him. That, and the fact that she knew—she just knew—deep down with every beat of her heart that he didn't do it, he wouldn't have done it…would he?

Bella groaned and felt like banging her head repeatedly against the wall. Maybe that would force her thoughts to order themselves so that she could decide what to do. She would normally be running through the forest without a thought once more, feeling the cool slap of wet leaves on her face and hearing the soft squelch of mud beneath her feet, but the factor that stopped her from doing exactly that was on the other side of the wall that she was leaning against. Her one and only father. She'd chosen Bastian over him before, no matter how unwillingly; she could not do it again, yet she ached to help Bastian. Perhaps if she got there quick enough, she could talk Tristan out of it.

She hated herself for thinking such things. Her father was recovering from a heart attack in the next room. She knew he was in the best possible care but guilt loomed over like a black cloud. Guilt over leaving him again, at putting herself at risk to save a man who may have killed his own family.

But she loved that man, more deeply that she had ever loved anyone or anything. She knew that now, no matter how many times she had tried to deny it to herself. The thought of him in danger tore her apart internally.

She got up, ignoring the stiffness in her joints. To her left was the corridor that would take her out of the hospital. To her right was the door to her father's side.

"Forgive me," she whispered, and made her choice.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Tristan stormed into the tavern and made a path for himself through the crowd merely by staring at them. They backed away in horror—you didn't mess with Tristan at the best of times, and when he was in a foul mood like he clearly was at that moment, you didn't even think about it. While the men dare not meet his gaze, taking a sudden interest in their beverage of choice instead, the women that accompanied them found themselves thinking how irresistible he looked when he was angry.

At the bar, Tristan asked the nearest barmaid (Kelly Lefevre, tall, blonde) for a whisky, not caring that she was in the middle of pouring a pint for the man standing next to him. Luckily for Kelly, the patron was only too happy to surrender his chance of service to a man like Tristan.

Kelly poured him the whisky, winking at him while she did so. Clearly, she was hoping for an encore of the night they'd spent together a few weeks previously. She was so busy not concentrating on what she was doing that she poured at least half of the whisky onto the bar top instead of in the glass. She pushed the glass towards him with a coy smile. He looked at her as if she'd just given him poison.

"What's that?" he barked.

She giggled.

"Whisky, of course. And it's on the house, especially for you," she cooed.

Tristan was not in the mood.

"Put some more in it then, you stupid girl!"

Kelly did as she was told, biting a trembling lip. Tristan could tell she was upset, but she wasn't Bella so it hardly mattered. He felt the liquid warm him as it trickled down his throat. His father was right; whisky did make him feel better.

"Another please, Kelly," he asked in the most genteel way he could manage.

She seemed to instantly forgive his former rudeness and smiled mischievously as she poured him his second whisky.

Tristan had just drained his glass and requested a third when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey, buddy!" said Luc, his broad grin making him look even more gormless. "What are you up to? Haven't seen you since the party."

Tristan finished swallowing.

"Hi, Luc! Just the man I was looking for."

Luc felt himself bursting with pride.

"Really?"

"Of course! Listen, do you have Andre, Fernand and Max with you?"

Andre, Fernand and Max were three guys that hung around with Tristan and Luc when they felt like it. That way, they got all the benefits of knowing Tristan without the responsibilities.

Luc nodded and pointed to the far end of the pub where Fernand stood watching Andre and Max argue over a game of pool.

"Ok, great! I need you all to help me with something. Of course, I could do it by myself but no harm in having back-up, is there?"

Luc nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course not."

Humouring Tristan came very naturally to Luc. It simply involved agreeing with everything he said and keeping his mouth shut when it was necessary. It was a piece of cake, and the advantages that came with it were fantastic—respect, free drinks, women (women that Tristan had discarded, but still women). In turn, Luc did everything Tristan told him to do. He was wrapped around Tristan's little finger, although secretly he begged to differ.

"What did you have in mind?"

Tristan had ordered and slugged back another whisky in the time it took Luc to finish the question.

"Tell them to meet us outside in five minutes and to bring some others. We're gonna have us a hell of a party!"

He grinned in a manner that Luc found frightening, yet he acted as if he hadn't noticed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

After Bella had left so abruptly, Bastian didn't know what to feel, think or do. It had all been so sudden. One minute she was there, the next she had vanished into the night. For a while, he could do nothing but stand still until the full reality of the situation hit him like a thousand bricks falling onto his head.

He was alone once more.

She wouldn't come back. Why would she come back? There was nothing here for her except a lifetime of emptiness.

He'd tried so hard—battled with his long-implanted demons, changed the way he looked and acted, given her everything that was in his power to give—and it still hadn't been enough to keep her. One reminder that she had a life outside his house and she hadn't been able to get out of the door quick enough. No hesitation, not even a goodbye. A wall of thorns wouldn't have been able to stop her, let alone the pathetic love of a hopeless man.

Bastian threw his head back and screamed. It felt good. All his anger, all his love, all his hate, all his hope was in that scream and it burst forth from his lungs like the wail of a banshee. It was raw agony wrapped in intense emotion and it was long and loud and shattering.

When it was finally over, Bastian's eyes were a brutal tempest as he accepted his fate. Never again would he allow anybody to into his life, his head, his heart—the cruel nature of hope was unbearable.

He stormed off into the garden to once again become a living shadow. Woe betide anyone who disturbed him.

* * *

Sorry, folks, no review responses this time! Haven't got the time! I really hope you all like this chapter and thanks sooooooo much for all your wonderful reviews so far. It is completely true that this story wouldn't have gone anywhere without your encouragement and kind words, so can never thank you guys enough. Another huge thanks to Trudi for being such a great beta! (lol this is ounding like an Oscar speech again!) Over and out! 


	25. Mob

Hi everyone! As I post each chapter, I'm becoming more and more aware that they're aren't many left to post :( I don't want this story to be over but i guess all good things must come to an end! This is the long-awaited Mob Song chapter and, although there isn't a mob in the sense of angry farmers with pitchforks, I hope this will suffice. And I apologise for the shortness of this chapter but the next chapter is going to be looooooooooooooooong, so it'll all balance out. For anyone who wants to know, I got my uni results today! I'm officially a Bachelorette of Arts now, woohoo! Anyway, on with the story...

* * *

…_Through the mist, through the woods, through the darkness and the shadows…_

Seven men marched into the cold, green forest, most of whom were not entirely sure what they were doing or where they were going.

"A favour for Tristan," Luc had reassured them before they had entered the forest and somehow that seemed to be enough. Somehow not knowing the full details of their mission made it all infinitely more exciting. Ignorance was like a drug.

Somewhere at the front strode Tristan, determination causing ugly lines to form around his usually perfect face. The whisky was kicking in. Every sense he had was heightened—he could hear the noise of twigs snapping beneath his feet, he could feel every drop of perspiration on his skin, he could see every inch of darkness in front of him like it was separate from the next. True, his head was starting to hurt and each footstep he took shook a little more than the previous one, but he hardly noticed. He had never felt so powerful. Men were following him without caring why—now that was leadership. He found himself imagining the moment when they would all make their triumphant return. They would be so glad they had chosen to follow him. The whole town would cheer, his father would be beaming with pride and perhaps best of all, Bella would come running into his arms, thanking him from saving her from making a huge mistake and begging him to be hers.

He wasn't actually sure what he would do to this Bastian once he found him. As long as he got the message across that Bella was his girl…and that he couldn't just go around killing people when he felt like it, of course. He wondered how Bella could let herself get involved with such a monster. It was beyond stupidity. He didn't doubt one word of what his father had told him—why should he? Patrick had no reason to lie to him. He had given him the chance to become the ultimate hero, and for that Tristan was starting to develop a new-found respect for his father. He wanted to make him proud. Maybe they could be a family again—two solid rocks at the foundation of the Blaine empire--and then when his father retired, he would take over and create a perfect future for Bella and their children. They would never want for anything. It would be perfect.

"Er…Tristan?" came a voice at his ear, harshly snapping him out of his daydream.

"What?" he snapped back.

"Can I at least know where we're going? I…I have a bad feeling about these woods…"

"We're going to pay someone a little visit."

Luc put himself between Tristan and his next step, causing him to stop suddenly and the rest of the group to narrowly avoid crashing into him. He took a deep breath and put a hand on the shoulder of the man he admired and feared so much.

"Tristan…please. I'm your buddy. Can't you just tell me what it is, instead of talking in all these weird phrases?"

Luc gulped when he realised Tristan was staring at him like a panther about to strike.

"I….uh…I just think I'd be able to help you better if I knew what we were actually doing. You can tell me anything, you know."

Tristan's gaze didn't shift and Luc started to seriously regret his boldness. He braced himself for a fist in the face.

"This guy's been after Bella. We're going to teach him a lesson. That's all. Happy now?"

Luc nodded and Tristan resumed his pace. He had decided that Luc didn't need to know about the danger they could be in. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he, or any of the others, knew that they were going after a homicidal maniac, they'd be less enthusiastic about following him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to do this all by himself. The tiniest shred of anxiety was just starting to creep into his otherwise supremely confident mind. He had realised that he didn't actually know where he was going. These woods had always been forbidden to him. When he was younger, he had often had nightmares that took place here. Monsters of all shapes and sizes had emerged from between the trees to get him as a twelve-year-old. The trees themselves had come to life on many occasions, reaching for him with their claw-like branched and tripping him with their vicious roots, and deep, deep down in the heart of the woods had been something so terrifying that his sub-conscious had long since made him forget what it was.

But he had been a child then.

This wood, for all its shadows and secrets, was just a pathetic little clump of trees and grass for him to push through and stomp on.

…_Say a prayer, then you're there…_

Suddenly, he was in a clearing and a house loomed up in front of him. It was huge—much bigger than the 'Maison du Blaine' (which Bastian immediately resented)—and deathly still. Neither light nor sound came from within its seemingly empty shell. The small band of men that now stood in the vast shadow it cast upon the clearing felt fear grip them like a vice and slowly squeeze their conviction out bit by bit. All except Tristan, who just felt all the more infuriated that he was second-best to the careless owner of such an isolated and squalid house. It looked like it was going to fall down at any moment, just like its inhabitant soon would…

Tristan grinned.

"Right! You guys…" He turned to face them and tried not to grimace at the way they clung together and glanced anxiously around them,"the plan is this. You all just go in and enjoy yourselves. Make some mess, steal anything valuable, raid the fridge…whatever. But if you find him before I do, you leave him alone. He's all mine."

"Who? Who's all his?" whispered Andre to Max, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Who cares? We get to have some fun and besides, it's Tristan, he knows what he's doing. Hey Tristan…"

But Tristan was already gone.

"Well…"said one of the men they'd recruited at the last minute, a trainee butcher named Carl, "I don't know about you guys but I'd rather be in there than out here."

He had noticed the sky becoming blacker. Rain was on the way and he didn't want to get caught in it. And hadn't something just moved in one of the bushes behind them? He wasn't sticking around to find out and so he ran towards the house. The others followed, entering via the door that Tristan had just kicked in.

…_Hearts ablaze, banners high…_

………………………………………………………………………………………

Bastian sat staring at the single rose in his hand, allowing the soft pad of his finger to be punctured by a thorn. _How could something so beautiful be so deadly, _he thought as a single drop of his blood fell to the floor at his feet.

A noise.

A noise--the all too familiar sound of shattering glass—broke into his ears and echoed round his head. It swirled around his thoughts and his memories. Suddenly, he was ten years old again and hiding under his blankets. His hands protected his ears and he was whimpering. He was crying…there was a scream…he was clamping his eyelids shut…he was drowning out the sounds of his dying family…he was becoming a shattered child…he was dying too but without the bliss of ending…he was shivering beneath the blankets…

Bastian massaged the rose roughly, causing it to tear and shredded petals to float down onto the consequences of that night—his parents graves.

Not this time.

This time he would stop them.

Slowly, he rose and silently he slid into the house, preparing to hunt and wearing a terrifying smile. He had nothing else left to lose.

_Kill the beast!_

* * *

And yes I know i'm mean with my cliffhangers, and this is not going to be the last one, i warn you now! Mwahahahahahahaha! My thanks once again to Trudi for her help.

Ok review responses (phew, and there was a lot of them this chapter!)

**Isabella:-**Yay! My mission in life is done! The more peopleI can get to want to hug Bastian the better, cos hugs are the best!

**Damian:- **I can do that to Bastian and I will, so there! Anyway you're hardly innocent when it comes to making heros suffer! And of course she will go back to him, its like an unwritten law. I think i'd get lynched if I wrote it any other way! Hope my version of the mob scene lives up to your expectations :) And seeing as you asked me to update again soon so nicely, here it is. The next chapter may be a bit longer in coming cos I have no idea yet exactly whats going to happen!

**elvenwriter:- **Bastian and I (why am I talking about him like hes a real person?) thank you for your concern. Yes I know I'm giving him a bit of a hard time at the moment but I'll make it up to him, I promise!

**LumBabsFan:-**Did my sneak preview prepare you adequately for this chapter? I wanted to save the better bits til now. As for whether Bastians going to get beaten up or do the beating himself...you'll just have to wait and find out. I wonder who you'd put your money on? Its quite and equal match, I'll give you even odds lol (I don't gamble, honest!)

**TrudiRose:-**You're so good to me! All the nice things you write in your reviews and your grammar checks :) gives you a hug Oh, and when I've finished with Tristan you can have him lol I have no idea how thats gonna work but he could sit next to your Gaston figure and they could argue over who's the manliest...can you tell I'm tired? lol

**bellamegs:-**I have never heard Ellen Degeneres speak so I'll just have to take your word for it that you sounded like her just then! I do dare to leave you hanging and I have left you hanging again! Mwahahahahahahah...please don't hurt me. As for who she chose...you'll find out in the next chapter,I think...I think you can probably guess though, i'm not THAT evil! Are you still waiting? Is your foot still tapping?

**RoxyFoxyChick:- **I'll have you know that I CAN stop it there and I've just done it again...why do I have the feeling I'm going to be very unpopular because of these cliffhangers? Hope this chapter satisfies your thirst for knowledge for the moment as I really don't know how long the next installment will be in coming...

**jrJournalist:- **Hope i churned out this chapter in time. I seem to go through stages where I write loads and then leave everyone waiting for ages! Enjoy!

**Pearly:- **Hi Pearly, thanks for reviewing :) I've done it again I'm afraid (leaving the story at annoying moments) so I hope you'll forgive me. Hope you like!


	26. Flames

Hi everyone! I've been nice this time, no cliffhanger but be warned next chapter is going to have one, and probably a very nasty one so be prepared. Mwahahahahahhaahhahaha! My thanks once again to Trudi for checking the ol' grammar and for everyone in our little BatB writers workshops for all the encouragement and interesting chats! LOL I sound like I'm doing my final speech already. Ok this is a long one so get the cup of tea/coffee/hot chocolate/copious amounts of alcohol, whatever your thing is, and the biscuits. Ready? Ok on to the story:-

Disclaimer:- (just noticed I'm very scatty with these things) Basic plot-Disney. Words and waffle-Me

* * *

Tristan strode through the large hole that was now where the front door used to be. He was here. It was happening. Memories started to filter through the long-silent walls and into his psyche. He looked at the staircase in front of him and saw himself as an innocent ten year old walking down with his two companions. One, his sister--the girl he'd always looked up to until she had deserted him. The other, the boy who would become the man he was here to destroy. He remembered him as a quiet, shy boy who was happy to let his reluctant playmates to dictate his actions. Tristan had never thought much of him—he was a mere tag-along to otherwise precious moments he could have spent with his sister. A parasite, a forced friend—and on this particular occasion that he was recalling, he remembered that he and Camilla had wanted to see the secret room where their father often disappeared with Bastian's. Bastian had refused, shaking his head and staring down at the ground, and regretted it. Tristan, strong even then, had given him a Chinese burn and called him cowardly chicken — harmless children's games, but nonetheless Bastian had run off crying and clutching his arm. What a wimp! Shortly afterwards, the visits had stopped and the next thing Tristan had known he had been forbidden to go anywhere near the Beauvais house. Now, ten years later, he finally knew why. Thomas and Joanna Beauvais—slaughtered mercilessly by their only son, and now he, Tristan, was going to avenge them. It was funny how things turned out.

These were the thoughts and visions that preoccupied Tristan so much that he didn't notice that his followers had already started chaos. The sounds of furniture being broken and ornaments being smashed echoed all around him but did not penetrate his hearing. His hands were in his pockets gently gripping the objects within them as he marched up the staircase.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The intruder stopped and stared straight ahead as more men entered behind him and immediately started razing the contents of Bastian's home, but Bastian didn't care. His eyes were trained on the man standing motionless mere feet from where he was hiding. This man, who stood as if he owned everything and feared nothing, and Bastian knew who he was. He had seen him many times through his binoculars, pestering and chasing after Bella. His Bella. Why was he here? Bastian carefully stepped back from the edge of the balcony as the intruder walked up the stairs.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Tristan started opening doors, each time clutching his pocketed possessions and releasing them again when he encountered nothing but silence and shadows. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for or who he expected to see in each room. Every time he saw nothing, he added more features to the creature in his imagination. First there was a vague outline, then it had arms and legs, then it became huge and fierce,then it had his fathers face…

Four doors now, five doors, six doors and still nothing. Adrenaline coursed through Tristan's blood and with every vein it filled, it made him even more determined. He would find him and he would make him pay. Seven doors. And now a corridor, long and glittering black like a never-ending tunnel. Tristan strode down it as if he was strolling through the park on a summer's day, his eyes searching every inch of darkness, his hand flexing over his pocket. If he wasn't so intent on striding forward, he could have looked back and maybe he might have caught a glimpse, just a glimpse of his prey hunting him.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Bastian was thoroughly enjoying himself. After all, there was nothing he liked better than the thrill of watching without being seen. The rush he got every time the man in front of him walked forwards was fantastic. It was like molten fire in his bones. It warmed and chilled him more with every step he took, and every step he took was perfectly synchronised with the intruder's. The corridor they were in led into another corridor that brought one back into the entrance hall. Tristan was going round in circles. Bastian knew his name now. He remembered Bella telling him and he was also surprised to recall that this was the same Tristan he had been made to socialise with all those years ago. The spoilt brat who had thought he could push him around and who sulked when he didn't get his way. What on earth did he think he was doing? Bastian turned and silently slunk off in the opposite direction.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Tristan had come to a door and swung it open triumphantly, only to find himself back in the entrance hall looking down on the mess in progress. He blinked disbelievingly before grinding his teeth together in fury.

"Hey Tristan!"

A grinning and dishevelled Luc bounded up to him.

"Find him yet?"

This sentence was followed by a yelp as he was roughly pushed aside by the reddening and sweaty arm of his friend. Luc watched as Tristan stomped through one of the ground floor doors before resuming tearing the drapes off of the walls. Out of the corner of his eye, he almost saw a shadow slip after him.

A few angry steps later and Tristan was in the dining room and throwing over chair after chair. Burnt-out candles toppled and fell and the smell of home-cooked food still lingered in the air. In a rage, Tristan took out his knife and scratched all the way down the table with its blade, causing the beautiful wood to splinter and crack. It felt good but did little to calm him. He had just about had enough of this wild goose chase.

"Come on out and fight!" he bellowed.

He knew full well that he was being listened to. He'd sensed he hasn't been alone ever since he'd set foot inside the house but he'd been waiting for his pursuer to make a mistake. Now he was rapidly tiring of this ridiculous game.

"Where are you, you coward?" he screamed as he kicked the glass panels in the conservatory.

He stopped dead in the middle of his tantrum. Bella had been here very recently; he could feel it. It was as if her spirit was all around him, enveloping him in its mist. It made every hair on his body prick up. For the first time, he was afraid. He did not like the sense of uncanniness that washed over him. Nothing was ordinary anymore. Bella was everywhere; in the floor, on the ceiling, reflected in the glass on every surface. Suddenly he was not so keen to track down his rival. He knew now that it was not going to be an easy fight. But now he didn't have a choice. Now, someone was behind him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Bella was running again and to the forest that she had only been too glad to be rid of just minutes earlier. She took the short cut and was rewarded with a splatter of branches in her face. Her foot caught in something and she almost fell over in the mud. Grimacing, she knelt down and removed her shoes. They were far too dainty and delicate for a frantic midnight run through the forest. She mentally cursed the manufacturer for not thinking of such practicalities. Now she would have to run in her bare feet. She winced as a thousand tiny woodland things pinched her heels and stabbed her toes. She wanted to cry but the tears just wouldn't come. She'd done enough crying that night to last a lifetime and now her cheeks stayed dry as she saw the house and thought of Bastian.

Bastian…with his beautiful eyes and irresistible shy smile, with his strong yet gentle arms…She started to imagine the moment when she would tell him of her feelings for him. They would share the most amazing kiss and then he would whirl her around in his arms and they would live happily ever after. Bella allowed herself to indulge in this image because she knew it would never be that easy. There were a lot of things that stood in her way and she did not want to think about them before she had to. After all, this was no fairy-tale; this was real life.

As she reached the clearing, she was prematurely brought down to earth with a bump. The house was not as quiet as it should have been. It wouldn't be just the three of them as she'd hoped for. Now she could hear sharp unnatural noises wafting through the front doors. She'd have to find another way in.

……………………………………………………………………………………...

Tristan closed his eyes and focused on the soft but ragged breathing that came from behind him and tried to sense how far away it was. As he did this, it grew louder and he guessed it was coming from less than five feet away. Now…to figure out the best move…

Bastian crept nearer, deliberately breathing louder than normal partly to lure Tristan into a false sense of security but mostly just to try and scare him. He was so close now that he could see the hairs standing on end on Tristan's neck. He was afraid. Good. Now it was just a case of who would make the first move…

……………………………………………………………………………………

Near the front of the house, as Bella tried to open a side door, Andre giggled as the flame on his lighter flickered, disturbed by his breath. Fire had always fascinated—it was so delicate, so fragile yet so destructive. The flame danced in the darkness, beautiful and deadly, as Andre held it to the corner of a carpet. It did not take hold at first. The fire merely licked the fabric, teasing it, caressing it with an ochre tongue. Then, all of a sudden, it seemed to jump from lighter to carpet, and the carpet began to burn, filling the air with a toxic yet mesmerising smoke. Andre stepped back and watched at it consumed and swallowed, his eyes dancing with hot glee like the flame.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Tristan's fingers stroked the blade of his knife removing the wood chips that were still implanted in its teeth, and then they moved to the handle and moulded themselves into the metal. As quick as he was able, he thrust backwards with it in his left hand and rejoiced internally as he felt it connect with something soft, then he spun round and unable to control himself any longer leapt onto the stunned shape behind him with all his force. Bastian just had time to remove the knife from his side before his attacker threw him to the ground, forcing him to smack his head hard on the marbled floor before hammering down punch after punch onto his chest.

All Bastian could do while he waited for his head to stop spinning was tense every muscle in his torso so at least Tristan's fists were colliding with something hard. Then, as his sight and other senses slowly returned to normal, he let all his pent-up frustration and anger at himself, at Bella, at people in general and finally at his attacker fill him till he felt he could burst. With an almighty roar, he began to fight back. Tristan, who had been having a merry time slamming his fists into every available surface, was completely taken off balance when Bastian roared in his ear and so he allowed himself to be thrown backwards, feeling his spine hit the floor with a thud. Bastian scrambled to his feet, pure and unadulterated rage cancelling out the pain that was now spreading all over his upper body. With a shaking hand, he wiped away the blood on his chin from where he'd accidentally bitten his lip sometime in the furore, and Tristan, who was trying to get up himself, got a proper look at his opponent.

What he saw chilled him to the core. Bastian's normally handsome features were twisted up with hate. His shirt was torn revealing a red, pumped-up chest which was now quivering as he breathed violently in and out, but his eyes were the worst thing. As they bore into Tristan's own (which were now growing wider with every passing second) he felt his entire body go cold and start to tremble. He was terrified. More then he had ever been in his life. The fear he had for his father, which was itself very strong, was nothing compared to the sheer panic that Tristan was feeling now, for he was staring into the eyes of a beast, their green fire threatening to engulf him in their fury. This man was capable of murder alright.

"What do you want?" said the Beast, breathing heavily between each syllable. Tristan forced himself to his feet, every inch of his being working to disguise his terror.

"Bella. She's mine. She always has been. Leave her alone."

"I didn't force her to stay."

"You must have done. There's no way she'd have willingly stayed with a cold-blooded killer like you."

Bastian's breathing quickened.

"What did you say?"

Tristan, sensing that he had touched a nerve, continued.

"Oh yes…Sebastian…I know, you sad, pathetic loser. Do you think I'm gonna let Bella anywhere near you again? You killed your parents, you sick twisted murd…"

Before he could finish the sentence, he found himself slammed against the wall with his own knife at his throat, those terrible eyes millimetres from his own. Suddenly, Tristan had finished being heroic. He started to whimper like a newborn puppy.

"Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me! I'll do anything. Anything!"

"Bastian, don't!"

A new voice appeared from out of nowhere. A face, tired, dirty and swollen with unshed tears, manifested itself to join the voice as it repeated its plea.

"Please, Bastian! Don't hurt him, I'm begging you! Please!"

There were a few awful moments of nothingness, then with a huge amount of effort and with Bella's cries echoing in his ears, Bastian released Tristan. With a grateful glance at Bastian, Bella ran to Tristan's side and checked him over. He didn't seem to have any major injuries which reassured Bella that she had averted the disaster for now. She turned to face Bastian but was met with the hard slam of the conservatory door.

* * *

No individual reviews this time cos there were flippin' loads but I would just want to say a big thank you and I love you all, and cliffhangers rule to **MissyBlue, bellamegs, LumBabsFan, beautygirl, TrudiRose, Nuintincowen, jr.Journalist, BlackRosesBorn, Damian, RoxyFoxyChick, vixon, Hearts Aflame and Princess Persephone! **(I'll write individual ones next time I promise!) 


	27. Love

Hi everyone! This chapter was shorter than intended but all that means is that i get more chapters to write. Yay! (can you tell i don't want to finish this story?) I watched BatB whilst drunk last night, it was great fun, me and my friends, all twenty-somethings, singing along to all the songs whilst getting strange looks from my relatives lol Great fun! Anyway...your next chapter is below. Enjoy! (And...er...please don't hate me for what you know is coming! lol!)

Disclaimer:- Basic plot belongs to Disney. Words and waffle belong to me

* * *

The slam of the door was so strong that the whole conservatory seems to shake. Bella gulped down the lump that had appeared in her throat. Something told her Bastian wasn't in the mood for the magical reunion that she had envisaged. With one last glance at the shattered face of Tristan, she opened the door and stepped out into the night.

The fist thing that hit her was the rain. She gasped as the cold water soaked her hair and ran down her bare shoulders. It started to run down her face like the tears that wouldn't flow as she peered into the darkness. The acrid smell of smoke filled her nostrils and she looked back to see that house she had just stepped out of in flames behind her. Even the rain that fell so determinedly around her fell in vain on the burning roof and walls as the fire raged on. Driven by the human instinct to preserve and rescue, Bella ran back into the conservatory to save Tristan, only to find herself confronted with an empty room.

Tristan had vanished.

There was nothing she could do except go outside and find Bastian. Part of her, she realised with dismay, just wanted to go back home and forget everything. This was all too surreal, too strange, too much for her to cope with. Just days earlier, she had longed for a situation like this—a chance to escape from the mundanity of her life into the world of fantasy that she so loved to explore in books and movies. Now here it was; excitement, adventure, love….and she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted it. Fantasies were supposed to stay hidden in the realm of imagination, not intrude into real life. It would be so easy to walk away back to the town, back to her father, back to normality. All it took was one step in the other direction…but now was not the time for the maddening indecision that had plagued her ever since she encountered the strange house in the woods and its even stranger occupant.

He had had a knife to Tristan's throat. One swift movement and it would have all been over. What would have happened if she had not arrived when she did? She had seen the dangerous emerald-coloured flame beneath Bastian's eyes and it had almost rendered her speechless. Almost. If she hadn't have shouted out, what then? She didn't want to think about it but once she found Bastian, she knew she would have to.

She continued to make her way shivering through the rain to where she thought he might be, trying to ignore how cold her toes were becoming as she walked through the sodden grass. Her hair now hung limply round her face if it wasn't plastered to her forehead and the once-beautiful dress was now soaked through. Bella sneezed.

_Great _she thought, wryly. _On top of everything, I'm going to get pneumonia._ _He'd better be worth it._

She hoped he was. Less than a few hours ago, she thought he was. Now she was not so sure. After all, she still didn't know whether he had murdered his parents or not. Tristan's rash act of overly-masculine heroism had achieved nothing except a blade hovering inches from his jugular. The image was doing nothing for Bella's resolve as she continued on towards the graves of Bastian's family.

A sharp pain in the ball of her foot told her that she had reached the gravel at the edge of the small memorial garden. She looked up and sure enough, there was the oak tree she had admired from the window and there was the bench but Bastian was not sitting on it.

_Oh………shit! _thought Bella as she bit her lip. If he wasn't here, she didn't know where he would be. The rain had lightened slightly but it still fell and in every direction around Bella it was black except for the eerie orange glow behind her in the distance. A thin wind blew the rain so it struck the ground at an angle.

_Where was he?_

"Bastian?"

His name was cruelly flung back at her by the wind. There was no answer.

"BASTIAN!"

Still no answer. Bella shivered again. She didn't want to give up.

"BA…" was as far as she got the third time before she noticed a faint shimmer of something white in the darkness. It was him! He was standing with his back to her about fifty metres away partially obscured by some bushes and apparently suffering from temporary deafness.

"Bastian" she whispered as she walked towards him. He stayed still. She reached him and placed her hand on the soaked shirt on his back. He turned to face her, expressionless.

"You came back…

"Of course I came back. I….

"…and you brought him."

A great deal of emphasis was placed on the word 'him'.

"I didn't bring him. If anything, he brought me. He said he was going to kill you."

Silence whistles through the air making the raindrops louder than they should have been.

"Were you…were you going to kill him?"

Bastian laughed, a strange disembodied laugh, but as he spoke, his face showed no discernible emotion once more. He started directly into her eyes.

"Do you think I would have killed him?" he said softly but menacingly.

The sob that had been waiting to emerge from Bella all evening chose that moment to make an appearance.

"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore…and it scares me."

"Do I scare you, Bella?" His eyes never left hers.

She nodded slowly and with her eyes shut.

"Yes you do."

A pause.

"You scare me, but I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid _for_ you."

"You're not afraid of me? You don't worry about what I could do to you?"

He was closer now, so close that she could hear his struggle to breathe between each sentence. She could see the weary strain in his eyes as he fought to retain control.

"I know you wouldn't hurt me."

"Do you? Really?"

His face was millimetres from hers. He was trying to frighten her the way he had frightened Tristan. It was easier that way.

But she knew what he was doing and so she didn't budge. She stared right back at him. She studied every patch of colour in his irises. She looked right into the dark holes that were his pupils. Her sight locked onto his soul. Only the frantic chewing of her lip gave her away her extreme anxiety. For a moment that seemed out of time altogether they locked eyes, each determined to break the other.

He was the first to look away, although not by choice. The sudden awareness of a sharp pain in his side made him wince. He had made himself numb and oblivious to all physical pain and now, at a moment of weakness, he felt all too well the knife wound that Tristan had given him before they fought. It was not deep, and Bastian would learn later that it had missed all his organs, but it was still there and it was bleeding.

Bella's strange triumph at winning the stare-out was cut short as she noticed the bloody tear in Bastian's shirt.

"You're bleeding!" she gasped and reached for the side of his shirt to examine the cut, but he pulled away.

"It's nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing! You're hurt! Let me see!" she said as she reached for it again, but again he pulled away.

"It doesn't matter now. Just let it bleed."

Silence. Sobs. Then Bastian uttered a single plea.

"Leave me."

His voice broke, tremulous and tender in the night sky.

"It's better that way."

And he turned away from her, his hand over his bleeding side, willing his shaky legs to carry him somewhere far away, but she was in front of him before they had a chance to. Her words were defiantly simple.

"I can't."

Gently, she reached a trembling hand to his face and brushed his hair away from his cheek, and then she looked into his eyes and whispered:

"I love you, Bastian."

A single tear fell from her eye and at that moment, she looked just like the picture that he had drawn of her. Suddenly nothing mattered anymore as she leant in to kiss him, her lips pausing just for a second before they touched his. She didn't know why she paused and neither did she, but perhaps she shouldn't have because at that precise moment, the spell was broken.

A voice, devilishly chilling and crisp, floated towards them out of the darkness.

"Aw, bless! What a touching scene!"

Then, the unmistakable slosh of whisky leaving a bottle to enter somebody's throat.

It was Patrick.

* * *

hides her head in her hands to shield herself from angry cliffhanger-haters It'll get worse before it gets better!

Ok, review responses:-

**TrudiRose-**Just wanted to let you know what a great feeling it is whenyou respond so enthusiastically to my chapters :)I really hope I continue pleasing and surprising you!

**RoxyFoxyChick- **I have written more so now you will know more, but you will not know everything, not just yet! And please could you not die from curiosity, don't want it on my conscience :p

**LumBabsFan- **Glad you're enjoying the cliffhangers :p

**BlackRosesBorn- **Craziness is good! And Bastian is very lovable isn't he? And the best thing is he's all mine! Yay! Glad you spotted the Phantom of the Opera bits, it seems to have influenced this story quite a bit lol I don't think u want Tristan to go thesame way as Buquet cos then you'll have lots of angry Gastonians to deal with! Hmmm if you complained about that cliffhanger, how are u going to feel about this one?

**bellamegs- **I'm fired? From where? Thats mean! And I didn;t think it was a cliffhanger, not really! Hope you like this one!

**vixonl: **Lol, sorry bout all the cliffhangers but they just have to happen. Its like a reflex lol

**PrincessPersephone- **Lol, thanks. Glad you're getting into it :) And of course Bella's gonna get him, hes too gorgeous to get away Heehee! Sorry about the destruction I've caused to your nails :p Think you'd beter wear gloves from now on!

**Nuintincowen:- **Thanks, glad you liked it! And the twist too, i like twists, i'm a twisty-turny person!

**Damian:- **Lol! Well compared to this one, i'd say the last wasn't a cliffhanger! Thanks for what you said, it was really nice :) Ypu rock as a writer too, hey maybe we can start a mutual appreciation society? Oh, and Bella went to Tristan first cos shes a good girl and wanted to check he wasn't hurt! Remember, when she walked in Bastian had him pinned to a wall and a knife at his throat! Of course Bastians gonna interpret it differently cos hes a guy lol Ok, grabs Bastian from Bella Here he is, kiss him! lol ...You done? puts him back Don't worry, he won't get confused hes my little puppet lol!

**Rosakara- **Thank you! Hope you like this one too!

**Missyblue- **Thank you so much:) I pride myself on the details, i write as i imagine it in my head. Hope you like this one too!

**beautygirl-Thanks! For some reason this won't un-bold so sorry! **I'm glad...ah thats better...I'm glad you like it cos as you know I really like your work too! It was the scenario that i was most worried about cos if it isn't convincing as something that could happen in real-life then it doesn't work!

**AddaLee-**Wow, don't know if I'd call myself a genius but theres no harm in u calling me one :p heehee I'm really glad you stumbled acrossit, its always nice to meet new reviewers :) I really hope you like this chapter and the ones after it :)

**jrJournalist- **.lol thanks a lot! I'd hate to be responsible for making you obsessive though. I'm like that with reviews though! Heres the next chapter especially for you and the next one shouldn't be that long in the making cos I'm dying to write the next bit!


	28. Death

My thanks to all my reviewers! I can't leave you individual messages at the moment but I appreciate everything you've said! Its what makes writing a story like this worthwhile. Also, my thanks to Trudi for her expert opinion and advice. Hope you all like this long-awaited chapter!

Disclaimer:- Basic plot: Disney. Words and waffle: me!

* * *

Patrick drained the last drops of whisky from the bottle and lowered it from his lips. He saw the stunned faces of his victims and grinned from ear to ear like a Cheshire Cat. He couldn't have picked a better time to interrupt. Disruption of intimacy was just too satisfying, especially when it involved the girl his miserable excuse for a son should have been kissing. _What a little slut! _he thought as he threw the bottle in his hand to the ground on one side of him, where it smashed sending shards of glass in all directions.

"Mr. Blaine?" said two voices in unison, but in different tones; Bella's was inquisitive, Bastian's wary. Having heard Bastian's voice echo hers, Bella looked at him in surprise, for she still did not yet know how closely linked the two men were. She received no explanation from Bastian, as he was too busy apparently staring into space, so she turned to the figure of her town's most respected and feared citizen.

"Are you looking for Tristan?" she asked innocently and as politely as she could manage.

"That useless wretch? No! At the moment, I couldn't care less where he is. Never send a boy in to do a man's job!"

A puzzled expression swept over Bella's face and she opened her mouth to enquire further but was silenced as Bastian, who was much more alert about these kinds of situations, moved slightly in front of her and gestured for her to stay back. Something about Patrick Blaine filled him with dread. After all, he was a Blaine—a member of the family that had latched onto his parents like bloodthirsty leeches and made him feel worthless as a child. The man who had constantly beckoned his father into the shadows and shut the door firmly behind them was the same man who had just mysteriously appeared by his parents' graveside. In some ways he had been grateful for the interruption—Bella had been about to make a huge mistake and he had been about to let her. At least now she stood behind him, away from his accursed eyes that seemed to hypnotise her so. His father's eyes.

His voice was deathly cold as he addressed Patrick.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, I want many things, Sebastian. A son who isn't a complete failure would be nice. I wouldn't say no to a lifetime's supply of the finest Cuban cigars either, but everything seems beyond my grasp these days. Most of all, I want to see you in the same place as your parents. The fact that you're still alive has been a constant thorn in my side ever since I had the misfortune to find out."

Bastian was as still as stone.

"I don't like it when things don't go my way. I am NOT a patient man, as I'm sure your little lady friend back there would confirm."

He looked straight at Bella as he said this and she felt invisible icy claws grip her shoulders and crawl up her spine. Over the years, there had been many whispers and rumours about Patrick Blaine around the town. It was the people's favourite topic of gossip, even more so than herself and her father. He was a powerful man—too powerful, they said—and dangerously unpredictable, especially when he was doped up to the eyeballs with various intoxicants. He also threw a damn good New Year's Eve party and gave a lot of money to fund the taverns and clubs in the area, so many people seemed content to dismiss the rumours as the envious whispers of trouble-makers. Bella had heard the rumours many times and was wise enough to acknowledge that even gossip has an origin; a root from which all subsequent talk sprung that was real and solid. She didn't usually make judgments based on gossip, but there was something about Patrick that had always made her feel uneasy, so she had avoided him and her dealings with Tristan had shown all too clearly that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. Now, as she sensed Bastian tense beside her, she knew that the rumours were not unfounded. Patrick was not here by accident, and not to look for his son whom he had just dismissed so callously, but seemingly to cause Bastian no end of trouble and harm. But why? The very thought that Bastian was somehow involved with this vile man made her blood freeze in her veins.

Would this nightmare never end?

"I thought everything had been taken care of. Obviously, I have once again been let down by other people's incompetence."

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but there was none, save for the slight quickening of Bastian's pulse which could not detect.

"At first, I didn't want to believe it, but then curiosity got the better of me and I had to see for myself. And there you were—swanning around in the house that should have been mine! The cheek! The impertinence! And then I learnt that Bella here, who belongs to Tristan by the way—God knows why, he doesn't deserve her—had mysteriously disappeared into the woods. I go to the house and lo and behold, there she is, setting up house with a dead man."

He spat on the ground after he spoke and then glared at Bella menacingly. Bella felt numb with disbelief although her physical symptoms would suggest otherwise—she was shivering now, unsurprising seeing as she was soaked through, and her hazel eyes were wide in terror as if she dared not close them. Patrick's words confused her, but she could sense the feeling behind them. Every syllable that came out of his mouth was dripping with scorn, malice and hatred, mainly directed at Bastian but carefully inclusive of her, as if Patrick desperately wanted her to be a part of his incoherent accusations.

Beside her, Bastian was absorbing and carefully scrutinising everything that Patrick said. He was applying the words to his memories and uncovering suspicions that he had thought were long-forgotten. When it had first happened, he had spent countless hours searching for answers about his parents' death. Many names had presented themselves to him and most had been dismissed, but one had stuck in his mind no matter how often he had tried to rid himself of it. He didn't want it to be true—it meant lies, betrayal, misplaced trust—and he had somehow eventually forced himself not to think of it and its implications. His refusal to accept the probable had meant that he had spent ten years in his parents' mausoleum unable to come to terms with their untimely deaths. They had haunted him non-stop and he had never found a moment's peace.

Now, with the house burning to the ground in the distance, it seemed that the curse was about to be broken. Bastian didn't know if he should be horrified or relieved. As Patrick rambled on, Bastian made every effort to appear unconcerned, but if his tormentor had looked really closely he would have noticed the slight reddening of Bastian's skin, the hands that were starting to resemble fists, the storm that was brewing in his eyes.

Patrick continued.

"I've been biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to finish what I started. I hadn't necessarily intended it to be tonight but it would be a good climax to a dramatic evening, don't you think?"

His hand slowly slid into the pocket of his trench coat.

"I suppose I could enlighten you before you go with all the hows and whys and what ifs but frankly I think it would be far more poetic if you went to your grave in the dark, ignorant to the last breath. Besides…" he drew the gun from his pocket. "It's common knowledge that once the villain explains everything he either gets caught or killed…and I have no intention of doing either one of them."

He studied the gun for a moment, caressing the barrel with his fingertips, before pointing it at Bastian's forehead.

"Any last words?" he said as he placed his finger on the trigger. Bastian could maintain his composure no longer.

"YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!" he screamed, the noise bursting agonisingly from his lungs.

Patrick sighed as if he was being mildly inconvenienced.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Sebastian, you have not been listening! Why can't you pay attention for once? You're just as bad as that pathetic son of mine!"

"Kill me then!"

"What?"

Bastian stepped forward, his arms outstretched in the traditional gesture of surrender. He struggled to stop them from shaking.

"There's a gun pointing at your forehead, boy. I wouldn't do anything rash if I were you. You'll just cause me unnecessary hassle."

"If you're going to kill me, then kill me. Maybe that's the way it's meant to be."

Bella sobbed loudly upon hearing these words and she really shouldn't have because it meant that Patrick's attentions were diverted to her.

"On second thoughts, maybe it would be too easy for me—and you—if I killed you straight away."

Once again he studied the gun in his hand.

"Don't worry, I'm still going to kill you. I'm just going to kill her first."

And he swiftly switched the alignment to Bella's forehead.

"Actually it works out better. She is a witness to all this after all."

At that moment, Bella experienced the phenomenon known as sheer terror. As anyone who has stared down the barrel of a gun will tell you, there is nothing as pure and simple as facing death head on. The terror forces everything else from your mind so all you can concentrate on is the dark circle in front of you and all you can do is wait for the inevitable to happen. Adrenaline pumps round your body but to no avail as you cannot move. You cannot even blink—just in case you never see anything ever again. This is how Bella felt, rooted to the spot trying to etch her final vision onto her eyeballs for all eternity.

And then it happened. The gunshot. Bella was aware of a moment of complete silence, then a loud noise and then falling backwards as something pushed her over. Her body hit the ground with a thud, forcing gravel into her skin and making her cry out, and then Bastian fell on top of her.


	29. Truth

Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for! Please don't hurt me! lol

* * *

Bella struggled for breath beneath Bastian's body and whimpered as she felt gravel pierce the skin on her back. For the briefest of moments, she didn't know what had happened. Then it hit her. Someone had been shot.

A quick mental scan of her own body picked up no traces of pain that she would associate with bullet wounds and so she guessed that it hadn't been her, even though it should have been. Her eyes focused on the top of Bastian's head which was lying motionless on her chest.

_No! NO...it can't be…_

She moaned and contemplated cruel fate. If Bastian had given his life to save hers, she didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself. Had he pushed her away and in doing so taken the bullet that was meant for her?

"Bastian?" she whispered as the air slowly began to return to her lungs. There was no response.

"Bastian!" she sobbed and used her free arm to gently brush away his hair, which had come loose from his pony-tail and was now bedraggled and spread around the upper half of her body. Silence greeted her once more. The rain had stopped now. Its absence made the intense quiet even more eerie. Her worst fears seemed to have been confirmed. Bastian was dead. She felt utter despair start to fill her heart. She closed her eyes and felt the last few droplets of rain play upon her eyelids and cheeks.

"Please don't leave me. I love you," she mouthed into the air, as she could no longer bring herself to make a sound.

Then, just as she'd prepared herself to embrace eternal darkness, she felt something stir next to her heart. Her eyelids flickered open again and she saw Bastian's head groggily move from its resting place on her breast. She gasped and choked as the pressure lifted and she could breathe properly again. She'd never been gladder to take a breath in her entire life. It smelt and tasted fantastic.

Bastian was now kneeling by her side, looking stunned and running a hand through his hair. When he heard her gasp, he took her hands and helped her sit up.

"Can you move at all?" he asked as he inspected her quickly for wounds. "Are you hurt?" Bella shook her head wearily.

"You?"

He smiled weakly.

"I don't think so."

Bella was relieved until she saw the blood all too obvious against the white of his shirt.

"You're bleeding though!" she gasped.

Bastian examined the stain and gingerly lifted up the side of his shirt.

"It's the cut from earlier. That's all."

"So…you're not shot?"

"Apparently not."

"Oh thank God!" Bella shouted to the heavens and flung her arms around his body. She held him tight as if she was certain he would slip away from between her arms. At first he did not hold her back but then she felt his warm arms encircle her waist and his head nestle next to hers. She was suddenly aware that something was different but couldn't place what it was. It hardly mattered for the moment though.

"I thought you were dead," she murmured on his shoulder.

"So did I," he said, his eyes wide as if in disbelief. He released Bella and she looked at him. Something _was_ different, she realised as she stared into his beautiful green eyes. They seemed clear, open, more peaceful somehow. The lines seemed to have vanished from around the corners too. The effect was quite startling.

"What is it?" he said as he raised an eyebrow in a puzzled fashion.

Realisation suddenly struck Bella, interrupting her thoughts. There had still been a gunshot. If neither of them had been shot, then what had actually happened? Did he miss?

She leapt up, abruptly aware that the threat could still be very real. What she saw made her scream. There was a man standing with a gun, but it wasn't Patrick. Patrick lay on the floor, a bloody mess where the back of his head used to be. No, the man with the gun was Tristan.

Hysteria engulfed Bella and she desperately fought the urge to vomit there and then as she looked from the remains of Patrick to his killer. His own son. Bastian had also gotten up and was standing trying to absorb what he was seeing before his eyes. He was surprised to hear the unmistakable wails of sirens in the distance.

………………………………………………………………………………………

After his fight with Bastian, Tristan ran dazed through the smoke and flames, trying not to cough and choke. He was running on auto-pilot, fuelled by shame and a longing for vengeance. He was looking for his friends, having decided that, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed help in carrying out his attack on Bastian, but so far he was only being met with burning carpets and walls. He didn't know what it was that had made him run off so quickly or that had turned him into an instant wimp when threatened, but he was determined that the temporary setbacks shouldn't blot his record for too long. He shuddered as he recalled how he'd pleaded and begged for his life. Pathetic! No wonder his father was ashamed of him—he'd been entrusted with a simple task and he had failed miserably. He had run at the first sign of trouble, and even worse, he had been passed over for a murdering psycho by the most beautiful girl in town. It was downright embarrassing. He was actually thankful that she had arrived when she did—he had no doubt that that knife would have been in his throat had she not intervened—but her presence had distracted him ever since he'd first stepped into the conservatory and sensed her spirit. That was why he had failed—yes, that was why.

He had found his way to the entrance hall but it was barely recognisable. Flames had already devoured most of the furnishings and now licked up the walls, leaving trails of soot and destruction in their wake. Smoke made the air thick and eye-watering but was not so bad that Tristan couldn't see that the place was devoid of human life. Everyone had sensibly left, and Tristan would have followed them if the front door hadn't been blocked by a sea of flame. He refused to panic (Blaines never panicked—it was a sign of weakness) and so, as calmly as he could, he turned around and strode back the way he had come, despite the blackening of his clothes and the sweat dripping off his body.

It wasn't long before he found the conservatory and the unobstructed door to the outside world. He hurled it open and gulped clean air into his lungs, then looked around at his surroundings. It was pitch black. Stars twinkled above him in the night sky. A full moon hung like a luminous orb in the heavens. If he had been another sort of person, he might have stopped awhile; admiring the beauty of the night, but Tristan had more pressing matters on his mind than star-gazing. He guessed that it was late--or early depending on how you looked at it-- and there were still many hours of darkness ahead. Plenty of time to hunt down the friends who had deserted him and drag them back to help him out. He knew he couldn't handle everything on his own anymore and this made him very angry.

Suddenly, he heard noises somewhere in the darkness, drowning out the crackling and hissing of the fire behind him. He listened intently. It sounded like voices—familiar voices. Were Bella and that creep nearby? If so, the opportunity was too good to miss. He started to walk towards them, but froze dead in his tracks. Was that his father's voice? He listened again. There was no mistaking the gravely, slightly slurred tone that had scolded him and belittled him constantly throughout his life. What was his father doing here? This was _his _territory, _his_ hunting ground, _his _opportunity to shine—why was his father intruding after entrusting the job to him? There was only one way to find out.

Fear was the way to go. He would creep up on the conversation, and then pick the perfect moment to strike—once he figured out what his father was up to. As he stalked silently through the grass, his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could see a solitary figure turned away from him. A few steps more and there were two other people—Bella and his prey—in front of the lone person. Their voices drifted through the rain-soaked air into his ears. His father seemed to be doing most of the talking. It was true then—Patrick had decided to take over the task himself. Disappointment and frustration burned up inside Tristan. It wasn't fair! Why couldn't he please his father? Why couldn't he ever make him proud? It wasn't his fault—it shouldn't be his fault—he'd never been given a chance to show him just how capable he was of being a true Blaine. Patrick always ruined things for him—driving his mother away, driving his sister away, insulting him, degrading him…

As if to reiterate the point, Tristan's ears filtered Patrick's voice, making certain phrases echo inside his head.

…"That useless wretch…I couldn't care less where he is…a son who isn't a complete failure would be nice…he doesn't deserve her…that pathetic son of mine…"

And what was this? Patrick was saying that he was the one who had killed Bastian's parents! It all made sense now—too much sense—and it meant that his father had lied to him! Lied to him and sent him off to kill an innocent man!

An angry sob threatened to burst forth from Tristan's mouth but he sensibly kept it quiet. How dare he! HOW DARE HE! His fingers, shaking with rage, were back in his pockets, playing with the second weapon he'd brought with him, but he was hardly aware of it as he noticed Patrick produce his own gun and point it at Bastian's head. Tristan watched in stunned anger as the gun's target was then suddenly switched to Bella. Beautiful Bella—the object of his desire for as long as he could remember—and her life was about to be stopped by his father. The ultimate betrayal.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Tristan pulled the gun out of his pocket and pulled the trigger. Then he watched blankly as his father slumped to the ground in front of him.

* * *

So...what do you think? Do you Gastonians want to wring my neck? Lol! This story is almost over :( Big thanks to everyone who reviewed, Klaske, Trudi and Faith for clearing up a few things for me about stitches and police (all to come in the next chapter), and Trudi for being my beta :)

Ok, review responses, and there were a lot of them...

**Hearts Aflame-**You were the first of many to hate me for my cliffhangers! I swear I'm done with them now. Honestly. Cross my heart and hope to die etc etc

**TrudiRose-'**The Mistress of Suspense'? I like that, i think i'll put it on my business cards. And I'm glad you liked Patrick being all oily and that-he's a mixture of Blackadder and some really creepy person in my imagination! Don't you think he'd make a good Bond villain? And you get a prize for being closest to guessing what happened next by wondering where Tristan had got to and saying that you hope he redeems himself. For a minute there I thought you had it all figured out! But I still managed to shock you, so yay!

**BlackRosesBorn- **Hmmm, i'm starting to think I should put health warnings on my chapters! Hope you have the hyper-ventilating under control now. Oh, and your review made me laugh my socks off..."tries to look threatening whilst breathing through a paper bag" LOL!

**LumBabsFan-**Are you pleased I didn't kill her now? Lol, i'm not that mean, i love happy ending too much! Plus I didn't think the BatB fanfiction would be able to cope with someone else 'pulling a Klaske' lol And thanks for saying it was well-written :) Oh, and for celebrating my 200 review thing! Hope you enjoy the specially written cameos in the next chapter!

**Black Rose 37-** Yay! Another Gerard Butler appreciator! Isn't he just gorgeous? He just HAD to be my muse for this story! And of course I wouldn't let him die, hes too damn fine to die lol

**vixon1-**Mwahahahahah! You thought I shot Bastian didn't you? Mwahahahahaha! ahem Please don't bite your nails off, I promise no more evilness!

**Damian-**OMG! You called me a little sh!t! As proud as I am to evoke such a strong reaction from you, I may have to use it against you and put you at the back of the queue to receiveBastian-loving now! There, how'd you like that? No...No...NO...please don't send Andrew Gilld to me, please! I'll be good I promise!

**nebulia-**Lol, what a great response! "Oh my, Oh my!" Heehee! Anyway, ive updated as requested, Hope you like!

**bellamegs-**Lol well its kind of a paradox if you say 'I'm not reviewing' in a review! Heehee! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**jr.Journalist-** Sorry for the delay in the last chapter, at least this ones slightly quicker! And the next one will be quicker still!

**earthsprite-**Thanks for the compliment :) I hope you carry on reading!

**Missyblue-**Wow, I made your hands shake? I have the power! Lol!

**leotabelle13-**To answer your question, although uve probably guessed now, neither! I'm too nice to kill off main characters!

**Nuintincowen-**Heehee, why is everyone calling me evil? I'm just doing what i have to do! Will i go to fanfiction hell now? Was this update quick enough to save me?

**HiroNoTsuki-Hi,** hope you got my e-mail and that it helped clear stuff up for you! I really do hope you keep on reading...even though this is way ahead in the story and by the time you see it, you'll have already read it...and wait, confusing myself!

**RoxyFoxyChick-**No! No! I'm sorry, please don't die! There's been too many deaths already! Lol and extreme dramatism is fine, i do it all the time!

**raveene-**Thanks so much for your compliment! I hope you continue reading!

**Lightshade-**Hi! Thanks for reviewing after lurking around :) Your review was so sweet, i'm all blushing now, i bet you're a fantastic writer, please let me know when you do post some of your own stuff if you haven't already! And I love POTO too :) Bastian and Tristan plushies? Now theres a good idea...

**PeriodicBrilliance-**Lol I haven't done it, I haven't killed him! As if i would! BatB is my favourite fairy tale as well :) And me writing suspense novels? Hmmm I like that idea...as long as they can be romantic suspense novels!

Phew! All done!


	30. Resolution

Hi everyone. This is just a silly little chapter just to fill in some information before the grand finale and just to fulfil a promise i made to LumBabsFan lol :) Thanks for all your reviews, haven't got time to reply to them at the moment but i'll make an extra special effort to write good ones after my last sniff chapter. Hope you all like! This chapter is dedicated to LumBabsFan andher boss!

* * *

Morris Verte sat up in bed, his face riddled with confusion. It had been over an hour and a half since Bella had said she'd be right back. At first, he'd thought that she and Tristan had gone somewhere to get food and talk things over but, if that was the case, they'd been an awfully long time. He remembered hearing raised voices coming from outside the room and sighed. Bella had inherited her mother's stubbornness as well as her hair and eyes. In fact, now that Morris thought about it, she grew more and more like her mother everyday. Sometimes he had to do a double-take if she walked into the room unexpectedly or if she hummed while she was preparing dinner—a habit of her mother's that had seemed to rub off on her. It was times like this that he remembered how much he missed his late wife--his beloved Christine. He knew that she would have been so proud of Bella and the woman she had become. Sooner or later, he knew she would settle down, having found the man she was destined to be with, and he would lose her a little. Oh, she would visit him still and fuss over him as much as she used to, but it would not be the same. He wouldn't expect that from her. His eyes glistened as he suddenly recalled a memory he thought he had forgotten…

…_and they all lived happily ever after."_

_Morris tucked his little girl into bed and kissed her forehead._

"_That was a nice story, Daddy."_

"_I thought you'd like it. Now, its time you should be sleeping."_

_He went to turn out the light._

"_Daddy?" came a small, inquisitive voice from the bed._

"_Yes, Bella?"_

"_Will I live happily ever after, like the princess in the story?"_

"_Of course you will."_

"_How do you know?"_

"_Well, I don't know, not for sure, but I believe you will. You'll live happily ever after just like your mother and I. We've got a lovely home, my inventions are coming along well and we've been blessed with a beautiful daughter…who should be asleep, young lady!"_

_She giggled as he said goodnight once more and left the room, an overwhelming feeling of happiness and satisfaction filling his soul._

Christine had fallen ill and passed away within a year of that moment. It had torn both Morris' and Bella's lives apart. They'd had to sell their home and start all over again. Ever since then, he'd wondered whether Bella would ever get the fairy-tale ending that he'd promised her.

Deep in his heart, he knew Tristan wasn't right for her but having the heart attack had made him realise that he wasn't going to be around forever. He wanted to make sure she'd be taken care of and it was true that with Tristan she'd never want for anything again. Hearing the two of them argue through the thin hospital walls was doing nothing for this idyllic picture though. He hoped they'd be back soon. The events of the past few days had really worried him. He hoped everything was sorting it out and that that fiend—that animal—would get what he deserved…but hope was a dangerous thing. He just prayed that his daughter was okay.

Like the world's fastest miracle, the bedraggled figure of Bella suddenly appeared at the door. Morris had to blink several times before he realised it was her…and she was an absolute state. Her dress was torn, her skin muddy, her face blotchy and swollen, but to Morris, she had never looked more like an angel.

"Where on earth have you been, child?"

She didn't answer. She merely walked in, her torn feet making her flinch with every step, and she didn't stop walking until she was in her father's arms. Then she let the tears flow.

………………………………………………………………………………………

It seemed like an eternity before Bella lifted her head. Her face was tear-stained, yet refreshed. She felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her. She was finally back in the real world, in a hospital, in the town she knew so well, with her father by her side…but it wasn't over just yet. Her father smiled at her, weary joy radiating from his features, concern making him look older than his true years. She took a deep breath and told him everything.

Morris felt totally drained. As his daughter told him of all of her adventures over the last few days, it was as if he was there with her, reliving all the terror, the pain, the happiness. He was mentally exhausted just listening to it so he couldn't even imagine how she must feel. He studied her face carefully as he tried to absorb all the information she gave him….._attacks….dances…drawings…_She was muddy, torn, battered and bruised but underneath all the hardship that was visible on the surface of her skin, she looked happy…and he could not deny the light that shone in her eyes and lit the shadows on her face whenever she spoke of _him_. His captor, his tormentor, the man with the child in his eyes…and as much as he wanted to hate him, he found himself welling up with sympathy as Bella described his life and the murder of his parents by somebody they trusted. He vaguely recalled the time, years before they had moved to the town, when he had read about the tragic deaths of the mysterious and elusive Beauvais', but he was sure that the newspapers hadn't mentioned the presence of a son. It must have been a huge cover-up. And that Patrick Blaine,--he felt every one of his senses sharpen at the mention of that name--he had never liked him, had always sworn that something was not quite right…and he had been correct. A cold-blooded killer hiding behind the façade of a respectable businessman. He shook his head as Bella explained how they still didn't know why Patrick had done it and that the police were questioning Tristan at that very moment in order to try to determine what had happened.

"…and then we finally made it to the hospital. He went off to get some stitches…oh you should have seen the gash in his side…and I came back here."

She paused.

"I'm so sorry I left you again, daddy, but…but he needed me. If I hadn't have come when I did…I think I love him, daddy…and I know he locked you up and threatened you, but…but wasn't him. He's different now…he's changed somehow."

Morris hushed her soothingly and hugged her. He didn't know what to think; it was all like a strange dream, yet here was his daughter—his only child—looking like she'd been through a lifetime's worth of emotion in just a few days and sounding like the heroine of one of the fairy-tales he used to read to her.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and a young nurse entered, followed by two policemen.

"Mr. Verte? Miss. Verte?" said the shorter, fatter and senior of the two men as his colleague (tall, attractive and with a glint in his eye) became suddenly very interested in admiring the young nurse who was now clearing away Morris' last meal.

"I am Chief Inspector Cogsworth and this is…" he paused and coughed sharply to attract his partner's attention. "Constable Lumiere."

"Enchante" said the constable with a nod and a grin which made Bella blush and suddenly feel very self-conscious.

"You'll have to excuse him" said Cogsworth. "He's new, a trainee from Paris… honestly, one just can't get the right staff these days!"

These last few words were said in a murmur that was loud enough for all the inhabitants of the room to hear, but that did not stop the young constable's eyes from wandering back to the rear of the nurse. Bella groaned. _Good old local incompetent police force…_She was actually surprised that they were investigating the case. Maybe they weren't as much under the influence of the Blaines as she thought.

"Now…"said Cogsworth, looking at his watch and gesturing for Lumiere to take notes "…if you wouldn't mind, we'd just like to ask you a few questions and get a statement from each of you regarding tonight's events. We've already spoken to Mr. Blaine and Mr. Beauvais and it seems quite clear what happened. However, we must get accounts from all the witnesses….LUMIERE! Will you desist what you are doing and pay attention, please?"

Lumiere, who had been flirting with the nurse all through Cogsworth's speech, retrieved a pen and stared taking notes, but not before bowing elaborately and apologising in a very smooth fashion.

"Of course, mon ami. Mademoiselle, monsieur…do forgive me."

He turned back to the nurse and winked, causing her to giggle and smile coyly. Bella couldn't help smiling. The whole operation was farcical but at least it was entertaining.

As they were fired with questions, answering them to the best of their abilities, Bella and Morris learned the full story. Tristan had been surprisingly co-operative and a raid at the Blaine's residence had revealed that Patrick was the head of several very shady business 'deals'. He had tried to enlist the help of Thomas Beauvais, another successful businessman, but he had refused once he learnt the true nature of Patrick's work, and had threatened to expose him as a crook. It had been his undoing. Consumed with rage and fear for his reputation, Patrick had gone to extreme measures to ensure Thomas' silence…and then ten years later, he had returned to finish the job, dragging his own son through the mud with him.

Noting Bella's concern, Cogsworth informed her that it was likely that Tristan's sentence would be reduced to manslaughter on the grounds of provocation and that his trial would take place within the year.

Bella couldn't help feeling sorry for Tristan. No matter what he'd said and done to her in the past, she felt he didn't deserve to spend the rest of his days in the prison cell that should have been his fathers. Nonetheless, it appeared justice had been served and that Bastian's parents would finally be able to rest in peace.


	31. Finale

Oh..My..God! I've finished! I can't believe I've finished! I'll save the Oscar speech for the end but right now I just want to thank Klaske for helping me out with the kiss. My original ideas, as she will probably agree, were bordering on cheese anda bit over-the-top but we managed to work out a way that it could be romantic but simple. My aim is that it will make you want to be kissed byyour very own Beast lol but I guess we shall see if that becomes the case.crosses every conceivable crossable thing in andaround her bodyOh, and of course, much gratitude goes to a freshly-returnedTrudi for her grammatical expertise.

Disclaimer:- It's mine, all mine! evil cackle

* * *

The sun began to set on the horizon, casting a reddish-purple glow on the remains of the Beauvais manor. Shadows ran behind the ruins like liquid smoke on the dusty ground. It had not rained for days, which was unusual for the time of year. Instead, the earth had been cooled by frequent winds that had danced across its surface before vanishing into the sky.

A swift and sudden breeze prickled the treetops and stroked the burnt walls of the house before gently ruffling the hair of Bastian as he sat in quiet reflection. He knew this particular sunset well--he had painted it many times, marvelling in its simplistic beauty, its myriad display of colour, the way it altered the perception of the world around it—and now it was as if he was a figure drawn by his own fingertips; a silent observer of the glory of nature. In his hands, he held a single red rose—a flower plucked from the bushes that still grew by the side of the house, though the wall it grew near now enclosed an empty, blackened shell.

He closed his eyes and was surprised to find that the light of the sun still intruded into his vision. He felt the breeze caress his skin and let it soothe him. He felt the silk of the rose on his fingers and knew that he was free.

He thought of all of the things that had happened to him, the people he'd met, the emotions he'd gone through—both in the last ten years and in recent times. It had been little over a week since the fire but it seemed so long ago. It was almost a distant memory. The remains of his family home suddenly reminded him of an ancient monument; its inhabitants dead and buried, yet alive all around the structure of the building, emanating from its walls. From where he sat, he could see the conservatory. Had it really been mere days since he had danced on its floor, since he had fought Tristan for love and vengeance within the boundaries of its glass? It felt like years, yet the stitches in his side told him otherwise. The doctors had done a good job sewing up the knife wound but he would be scarred for life—a permanent reminder of the reunion with Tristan.

He thought of Tristan and was surprised that he didn't hate him. He could only feel pity. What must it have been like for a man to have to lurk in his father's shadow and only ever be able to tread in the outlines of his footsteps? To live constantly aware that he could never be anything but his son? Tristan had finally escaped him, it was true, but only through death and its consequences.

The wind rustled his shirt, making the cloth catch on his stitches. He removed it, gritting his teeth, and examined the angry red line that cut the side of his abdomen perfectly in two. He had been lucky. The wound was sore but it had ceased to bleed. He was healing.

The last week had been hectic—an endless onslaught of people asking questions and wanting answers. He was the latest subject of gossip and intrigue in the community that he had shunned for most of his life. When he, Bella and Morris had walked through the streets, there had been no end of sly whispering and pointing. He had loathed it—going from being alone to having everyone know you was unsettling to say the least—but Bella had assured him that it would die down once something else came along. Yet for the moment at least, the town was abuzz with rumours about the Blaines and the Beauvais'. The latest gossip centred around the idea thata mysterious young woman had apparently arrived soon after Tristan's incarceration, claimed the family fortune and then left as quickly as she'd come. For all the interest in the latest scandal, Tristan had received no visitors in prison, despite his former popularity. People could be forgotten quicker than stories, it seemed.

Bastian looked at the rose in his hand and then to the stones at his feet. The first thing he'd done when he'd been recognised as the Beauvais heir and claimed the insurance money was commission a new headstone for his parents—the finest he could buy. It was the least he could do.

For the first time, he felt an overwhelming sense of peace at their graveside. For the first time, his eyes remained dry and he was smiling, satisfied in his heart that their spirits could rest, safe in the knowledge that their deaths had not been in vain.

The sunken sun peered out from just above the horizon, its colour more intense than before and it highlighted the figure now walking towards him. It was Bella.

Bastian's heart skipped a beat, as it had been doing constantly for many days. Surrounded by an aura of red-gold sunlight, she looked more beautiful than ever.

When Bella had gone to the spare bedroom and found Bastian missing, she had been worried, but not for long. She knew how disorientated he had become ever since he had been thrown into the harsh glare of the spotlight after the fire. He had hardly seemed there as he'd been pestered and probed by various authorities and fended off armies of journalists. She'd had virtually no time alone with him since it happened and what time they had spent together had been uncomfortable as Bastian had been distracted, no doubt trying to make sense of the knotted feelings still inside his head. She couldn't help but wonder whether he would ever be capable of loving her as she did him. When she thought back to that eventful night, she recalled the stony reaction she had gotten when she'd confessed her feelings for him under the pale moonlight Only she had leaned in for the kiss that never happened; he hadn't moved. If they hadn't been distracted, would her kiss have been returned? Somehow she knew it wouldn't have. It was a feeling that she would have to get used to.

And so it was with a heavy heart yet the tiniest glimmer of hope that she knew where he had gone when he disappeared—the only place he might be able to find some sort of sanctuary—his parents' grave. Morris had shown the usual amount of concern when she'd told him she was going to look for Bastian again. There had been much soul-searching and a few awkward moments when the three of them had been around each other. At first, Morris hadn't seemed able to fully get over the fact that his daughter's new friendwas the same man who'd imprisoned him and tormented him, and Bastian had felt a constant sense of shame whenever he'd looked into the eyes of the man he'd treated so badly, but both knew how much Bella meant to the other. Both had tried hard and as a result, Morris had started to accept Bastian and Bastian had felt more comfortable around him.

The sun was behind Bella as she walked towards Bastian and she noticed her shadow stretched before her—so long that it seemed to merge with his. As she reached him, he looked up and smiled faintly before placing the rose in his hand gently upon the marble slab in front of him.

"Hi!" she said.

"Hi!"

"I thought I'd find you here."

She sat next to him on the cool stone bench and followed his eyes to the rose.

"They would have been proud of you."

"I hope so."

A breeze brushed past them, making the petals of the rose dancein the fading sunlight. Bella found herself studying Bastian's features as he watched the sunset—his hair, almost as black as ebony, the day's worth of stubble on his face, the tiny lines at the corner of his eyes. He turned and caught her in mid-gaze. She blushed and looked away.

"What is it?" he asked softly.

"Nothing…nothing", she said quickly. "I was miles away."

"Really?"

"Yes, nothing! I mean…it's just…it's nothing." she murmured as she turned to face him again.

"I…."

She did not have time to start a new sentence because Bastian suddenly leant forwards and kissed her. Whatever she was about to say rapidly left her mind. All she could concentrate on was the sensation of Bastian's lips on hers and the tingle that seemed to spread from her mouth all over her body. Then, just as suddenly as it had happened, it stopped and her eyes, still locked in surprise, met Bastian's. They were greener than ever, like deep-set jades with endlessly dark centres. They sparkled as the mouth beneath them widened into a grin. Bella's did the same; her cheeks flushed a brilliant red.

Bastian's eyes continued to burn into hers as he leant in again, slower this time, and she brought her lips up to meet his. His hand moved to stroke the side of her face and play with the strands of hair that hung by her cheek. His kiss was firm yet tender, gentle yet passionate and Bella felt herself melt into his embrace. The world—the trees, the house, the bench she was sitting on—seemed to vanish from around her and all her senses were concentrated on the moment. For days afterwards, she would remember that the only sound she had heard was her heart beating faster and that the only scent was of the overwhelming aroma of roses.

As the sun finally sank beneath the horizon, a gust of wind enveloped the couple and broke the spell. They reluctantly parted and Bastian's eyes smiled shyly back at her. Bella now knew what was so different about Bastian—he was happy, and so was she.

He stood up and offered her his hand, and together they walked into the sunset and towards the future. As day made its smooth transition into night, the first stars began to twinkle in the sky.

_Termanat hora diem, terminat author opus (_just something pretentious i borrowed from Christopher Marlowe!)

* * *

'sniffs' 'sobs' 'bursts into floods of tears' 'uses the nearby curtain as a tissue'

Ok big thanks, hugs and slices of my homemade chocolate puddle pudding are owed to the BatB workshop 'crew', namely Trudi, Faith, Klaske, Nikki, Carrie and Cathy for all the spirited chat and help that they may or may not (:p) have given whilst I've been writing my story.

Also loads of thank-yous to everyone who has reviewed me along the way. I know its been said a thousand times but its all the wonderful positive reviews that you've given me that have encouraged and inspired me to continue writing, and its the constructive criticism that has steered me back onto the path of decent writing when I have strayed into the dark woods of waffle.

Thanks also to my various inspirations, most of whom are not conscious so probably cannot appreciate the sentiment but what the hey.

**Coming soon: **From my battered old pen and keyboard, will shortly spring the magnificent epic ('coughs') of 'The Chip Chronicles' (title is a work in progress) where I shall be looking at the life of everybody's favourite teacup/boy. Not sure exactly the direction I'll be taking but it'll probably involve a few events from the original movie from a Chip POV interspersed with a brand spanking new adventure involving an older Chip and various other BatB characters...but thats another story. Please, please drop by the first chapter when its written, thank you:)


End file.
